Awakening
by IVIaedhros
Summary: Have you ever asked what might have been? Lyndis, now married and with a grown daughter, looks back on how she first met Mark, the cold and manipulative tactician whose hand would shape the Fate of all Elibe.
1. He Was Cold

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

Have you ever asked yourself the question of what might have been? This is a game I play with myself sometimes. It is good a way to occupy your mind when you're too sick to get out of bed or wandering in Sacae's endless plains. And yet, the more I try to imagine, "What if…" the more I realize that there are some things which are too important to us to imagine them happening any differently. Sometimes it's very possible that they could have happened different, perhaps they really _should _have happened differently. But they do not; they remain the same.

I'm having trouble sleeping tonight. While I lie next to my husband, making small talk, he tells me that he loves me. Or, he meant to say that he loved me, but instead it came out, "I…luff'…'ou, Iyn, aaaaahhmm." Poor man. He's so tired he can hardly think without yawning. I have no sympathy for him.

"Oh, well, I'm glad to hear it," I reply, smiling at him, my beloved husband of so many years. I sometimes have wistful moods and this is one of those times. "I can't believe our daughter is almost seventeen. Father Sky, she's already being _courted_!"

He smiles at me without even opening his eyes and says, "She's just like you Lyn. I swear, half the men in Elibe must be pursuing her hand," his smile suddenly changes to a wicked grin, "And the other half must have died from sheer terror when they realized that they had to go through you first." This remark only earns him a small bruise on his shoulder.

"It's not _my_ fault that I must act the father in your place with these boys! If I weren't here, she would've been married off at least a half dozen times."

This seems to amuse him since he gives a dramatic sigh, "Ah my dear wife, you're even more man than I am!" That almost earned him another bruise, but he preempts me by rolling over to give me a lingering kiss. I graciously decide to spare him and allow him to continue to kiss me. I even help a little.

He doesn't finish until many long moments later. Finally, we release one another and he returns to his spot. It wasn't long before he was almost asleep.

Hoping to continue our conversation a little longer I ask, "Hmm, what would I do without you?"

Rather than the sarcastic reply I expect, he surprises me with an unexpectedly thoughtful answer, "I really don't know Lyn. I'm sure _you _would've gotten along just fine, but I honestly can't imagine how I ever lived without you." Another long yawn, "Why just think: you're the one who really started it all. If you hadn't saved a certain, poor tactician then _none_ of this would ever have happened."

After giving his final remark, he was soon fast asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts. For what seems like an eternity, I lie awake with my eyes closed, trying to go to sleep, but to no use. Eventually I give up and went outside for a walk.

As I walk through the summer night, awash in the light of the full moon, my mind wanders through all the years of my life: my childhood, being the Lady of Caelin, the war against Nergal and the long years afterwards. There's much I think about, but I keep returning to my husband's reply and the question it causes: how would my world be different if I had made only a single different decision?

I found that I simply couldn't answer it. I knew only what I was now and to be anything else would be idle speculation. I could only remember…

---------------

He was cold. We were in Sacae, in the middle of a blazing summer. There's no way he should've been chill to the touch.

I worriedly pulled my hand from the unknown man's ashen forehead. It had nearly been two days since I had found his unconscious body. He had been lying near a massive outcropping of rock that served as rendezvous and waypoint for plainsmen and traders alike. I had been camping a few minutes away when I had seen the smoke and rode to investigate. All the area around him had been scorched, forming a black scar on the infinite sea of green.

Lying next to him had been his only possession: a large cane of black wood, unadorned save for two diagonal slashes on opposing sides, forming what I assumed was a grip.

The strange man had had no obvious wounds, yet it in the passing days he barely breathed and never responded to either voice or touch. He consumed no water except what I had been able to force down him and I was worried about dehydration.

I wore circles in the small dirt floor of the hut, thinking aloud as I ran through my limited options, "If only I was nearer to Bulgar I could ride and retrieve a healer…but we're too far for me to simply leave him. If he doesn't improve I'll have to put him on my horse and walk beside him." The idea didn't appeal to me. Bandits were known to roam the area around Bulgar, preying on merchants and other travelers. I could avoid them easily enough on my own, but not with him slowing me down.

Thoroughly frustrated, I resigned myself to staying by his side for at least another day. I was in no danger of going hungry because of the plentiful game and the hut served as an adequate shelter for the winds. The thing was, I had no medicine with which to treat the stranger besides a few vulenaries and these did not seem to help. I could only pace or if I became tired of pacing, sit and stare at my unconscious companion.

He certainly was a strange one. When I first found him, I'd been too concerned with looking for outward injuries notice anything peculiar about him and then I was distracted by transporting him back to my hut, not very easy when he weighed about as much as I did and he was as limp as a boned fish. But when I finally found some time to sit down, I couldn't help but stare at him. Lying almost naked on my small cot with nothing, but a small undergarment to cover him, he was undoubtedly striking, perhaps even attractive in an exotic way.

His skin was darker than anyone's I had ever seen. The people of Sacae are well known for their bronzed skin, a result of lives spent in the open sun, but this man was different. His skin seemed to be naturally darker than anyone I've heard of in Elibe. It was not black, rather it was closer to a tone you might see in the sand and soil of the earth. His features were extremely lean, all sharpness and angles, as if the rock and sand he seemed to have sprang from had stripped all that was soft from him. Every muscle, every bone stood out in sharp relief.

His hands especially showed his starvation. His fingers were longer than normal and almost skeletally thin, like the claws on some strange bird. Blue veins crisscrossed like faint rivers under their tops. I probably had been watching him for too long, but I could not keep my eyes off his hands. They were disturbing for some reason I couldn't put my finger on.

What intrigued me most, however, was his face. His cheekbones were high and prominent. A broad face, quickly narrowing into an unusually sharp chin and nose completed the stranger's foreign look. He had a patrician look about him, an appearance that was only complimented by the soft, raven hair that hung to his neck.

Striking yes, but the more I looked at him the more something seemed…off. It was hard to tell his age: he looked early to mid-thirties, but the man's thin lips were framed on all sides by a wildly uneven moustache and beard, giving him an older, feral look. Hollow cheeks testified to many long days spent on miserly rations and belied his other, more cultured features.

That's how I passed the days. I woke up early to eat a light breakfast and check on my mysterious guest. If it was necessary, I hunted. Otherwise, I continued my watch over him with only the occasional interruption to eat or sleep. I couldn't keep it up it up forever though.

When the sky reddened in the third morning since our meeting and no perceptible change had come over the man, I grew even more concerned over his condition. I decided to risk the trip for Bulgar and resolved to set off the next day at first light. That gave him one more day to wake up before I had attempt hauling his unconscious self around like corpse and it would keep me from having to rush preparations. Besides, I was too used to being on the move and I was almost ready to go insane from being confined inside for so long. I suddenly had an inexplicable feeling of resentment against the man, as if he were purposefully keeping me here against my will.

"Looks like we're going to be footing it," I quipped to the still sleeping man, trying to allay my frayed nerves with sarcasm, "well, _I_'_m _going to be anyway. _You're_ just going to be riding on my horse." I got up from where I had been sitting and went outside, intending to bring some fire wood with us for the journey. Fuel of any size is quite rare on the plains. Long grass and shrubs or the waste of man and beast are the most common means of fire. Wood is only for dire emergencies. However, it is custom in Sacaen dwellings to always have enough wood and kindling for one fire, even in the summer, since you never know when you will need to quickly get a blaze. It wasn't long before I was walking back in, my arms full of long sticks well suited to burning.

"I hope you don't plan on sleeping much longer because," I never got to finish. As pushed through the twin fur pelts covering the doorway, I looked up to see a pair of pale blue eyes staring dispassionately at me.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Whatever I had been planning on saying escaped me entirely. All I could do was stare back helplessly at the horrible eyes that held me captive. It was as if a man who had lost both of his eyes was staring directly at you, a man who had had both of his replaced by replicas; perfect in every detail, but never alive.

"Where am I girl?" Dead, his voice was as dead as his eyes.

"My…my hunting hut," I replied automatically. I felt like a doll that a small child plays with, limp and easily forced into whatever poses were desired.

"And how long have I been unconscious?" Completely monotone, no inflection.

"Nearly three days. I was almost ready to leave and take you to Bulgar."

"Bulgar…that is a city?"

"Yes." In my mind I felt as if those long, skeletal fingers were being raked through thoughts.

"You've been caring for me then?"

"Yes," I replied.

"I see." He seemed to lose interest in me, his eyes lost in introspection up near some distant point on the ceiling. His weariness seemed to retake him then. Those terrible eyes closed again and then, drawing a ragged breath, he seemed to deflate in front of me. As soon as his gaze left me I felt as if an immense weight had been lifted. I suddenly realized that I was no longer holding any of the wood. It was scattered about my feet. For a long moment I stood there without knowing what to do, the kindling still strewn about my feet.

After several moments I worked up enough courage to walk over to the cot. I was about to ask him if he was feeling any better when his eyes unexpectedly snapped back open. The seeming transformation is cause was frightening. With his eyes closed, I had allowed myself to think of him as almost normal. Now, he was disturbingly frightening again, perhaps even more so because his voice had unexpectedly changed.

"I am still alive…so she must not have been bluffing when she withdrew from my defense." No longer cold and emotionless, it had become a sibilant whisper, almost mocking in tone and laced with menace. I could only be thankful it didn't seem directed at me.

"Then the next move is mine…and yet…what to do? If I truly injured her as much as much as I believe, the Hag will have withdrawn to her lair. It could be years…" His thoughts seemed to trail off. For a moment, he simply stared off into oblivion and then the murderous spirit that he seemed possessed of left as suddenly as it had arrived. He now seemed simply weary, the old weakness and frailty returning.

I suddenly found myself at the end of his gaze again, except it was no longer threatening. He simply looked utterly tired.

"I owe you my life…what is your name?"

I was so startled by his question that I could only stare stupidly at him for several seconds. However, he simply remained silent. A small ghost of a smile somehow crept onto his face.

"I…my name is Lyn…of…of the Lorca tribe." I suddenly felt some of my courage return to me. Who was this man, this stranger who was interrogating me within my own shelter? Had I not taken care of him for two whole days?

"So, what is _your _name?" My tone sounded insolent, even to my ears, and I was sorry as soon as I said it. I could only set my mouth in a firm line and wait for the sudden change. The changeover came, but it was not the murderer who came to his face. Instead I was given a leering smile that did not quite reach those puppet eyes.

He surprised me again by laughing: a quiet, halting chuckle that came only from his upper throat and not from his chest; not true laughter. After he trailed off, he once again gave me that chilling stare before giving his reply,

"I think…that it is entirely too early for me to be giving you my true name." His lips curled into another smile that didn't reach beyond his mouth.

He gazed at me for a long moment and then, with no apparent reason, his face melted back into its original deadpan. The changes that came over him were almost too swift to follow. _"It's like watching a signal mirror,"_ I thought, _"Flashes 'on' one second and 'off' the next."_ Then he spoke again in a clear voice, though he still sounded quite weak, "For the time being, you may simply call me Mark."

"Mark?" The name seemed so out of place with him that I simply stared dumbly at him again. My feelings must have been obvious as he allowed himself another "almost" smile. It seemed to be more genuine then before, but that might have also been wishful thinking on my part. "_Mother Earth," _I thought, by now completely bewildered,_ "what kind of man is this?" _

"It is a common enough name, yes?"

"Yes…" I didn't want to say more than necessary and risk offending him.

"What is wrong?"

"Uhmm, nothing. Nothing's wrong." That was a blatant lie

He seemed not to notice or perhaps he simply didn't care.

"Then Lyn of Lorca, I suggest we wait at least one more day before leaving. I am quite weak and I do not think I will be able to make it tomorrow."

It was my turn to give a penetrating stare. Waiting another day certainly made sense, but I was reluctant to delay, not to mention I was suspicious of him. But, when I couldn't think of any sinister motives beyond simple weakness, I agreed. Besides, more arguments would only put both of us in a bad mood.

"Sounds good, but I still say we should leave tomorrow if possible. If you're too tired, fine, but if not, we'll have a decent start before nightfall." I waited to see if he would argue, but he surprisingly, he did not.

"That is a fine plan. Now, if you will excuse me, I will be going back to sleep. This conversation has severely taxed my strength." He began to settle down, but paused to add one final thought. "I will still be a burden, but if we at least wait until late noon, I will be able to provide some small help."

Having said his piece, he laid his head back down and was out faster than a snuffed candle.

"Uh..." For the fourth time in as many minutes, I was left staring stupidly at him, completely at a loss as to what had just taken place and to what I should do. I didn't have anything better to do so I simply continued preparing for our trip in case "Mark" was ready to leave the next day.

My hands did their work on the numerous water proof wrappings necessary to pack the food needed for our journey. As a nomad, especially as an orphaned nomad, I know the routine so well that I could do it in my sleep. As I rolled extra blankets and padding for sleeping, I tried to mentally sort out what had just happened.

Although the man appeared helpless, I didn't feel secure. The horror of talking directly to him faded quickly to a simple wariness, but that fact that I _had_ been horrified confused me as much as anything else. After all, I was a healthy, trained warrior of Sacae and he was frail and bed ridden. What did I have to be afraid of?

I thought of the fear I had felt. It all came from him looking at me. Remembering him staring at me brought no notable reactions, in fact, I couldn't figure out what had been so scary. I simply knew that I had been scared, but as to why, or even what it had really felt like was already lost to me. I almost would have sworn it off to daydreaming.

"_Why am I afraid?"_ I wondered. _"I've seen my home destroyed, my parents massacred, and I'm no stranger to fighting. I'm no soft city-dweller. I'm a tribeswoman of Sacae!"_

By the time I had finished preparations, the sun had set and I had decided that I would stick to the original plan. I would not flee my own home and leave the weakened stranger at the mercy of the elements. It would be dishonorable and I valued my pride and honor as a nomad of the plains more than any possession I had.

"_It's settled then,"_ I thought,_ "I head for Bulgar tomorrow morning and I won't be going alone." _I allowed myself to look back at my sleeping guest. _"I'll just be sure to keep my sword close by."_

**Red Notes**

**1) **I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. It was tough at times…my "backspace" certainly saw _a lot_ of use, but overall, it was definitely worth it. If I had to judge, I would say this is the best chapter out of the whole work, at least from a technical stand-point. Everything just sort of meshed…the daily life of a nomad, Mark's unusual physicality and personality, the underlying tension of the unknown., etc.

**2)** Lyn was actually the more difficult of the two to portray in this chapter. I knew I wanted Mark to be cold and menacing, but Lyn had to appear vulnerable, while still containing the spirit of the Lyn shown in the game.


	2. Axes For Rabbits

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

_Raw gods, I'm tired._

That was my most frequent thought as I quietly kept a suspicious eye on the man in my cot. My mysterious guest was more than content to sleep like the dead for the rest of day and night. I, meanwhile, was on my guard the entire time. "Mark" had crept me out sufficiently that I didn't trust him to sit quietly, but of course, that was exactly what he did. Eventually the monotony and lack of sleep took their toll.

After almost sixteen straight hours of alternatively staring at the still-sleeping Mark or off into space, I gave into the fatigue tugging at my brain and sat down cross-legged with my back against the door frame.

"_It'll only be for a few hours..." _I thought. After all, hunting game to keep from starving tended to give you a very good internal measure of time and I found that I could usually awaken whenever I wanted. That time, however, my body decided to betray me.

It seemed as if I had only blinked, but when I opened my eyes next I found myself once again staring into Mark's pale blue eyes and dark face. I was startled to say the least.

The first words out of my mouth were, "What the HELL are you doing?!" Well, that's what I meant to say, probably. It actually came out something like, "Wha…_you_...?!" I instinctively jerked myself upright and tried to stand (apparently I had also somehow ended up laying down on my side, covered with blankets), but I did it so quickly that the blood rushed from my head. With my hand on my face and a quiet moan, I was forced to lay back down or risk falling down unceremoniously in front of Mark, something which, given the circumstances, I was very reluctant to do.

He was standing motionless over me, his steady gaze falling unblinking on my face. He looked as if he had been there for days. After a few quick seconds, I was able to comfortably sit up to face my (guest/captor?). Sitting there cross legged with blankets draped messily over my head and shoulders and taken by complete surprise, I was feeling extremely vulnerable.

"_He's trimmed his hair,"_ I thought incongruously, _"what did he shave with?" _After a few tense moments, it was Mark who chose to break the silence first. "It is good to see you awake, Lyn of Lorca."

"How long have I been asleep?" Was my immediate response. When I had allowed myself to drop my guard and fall asleep, the last light of the dying sun had been fleeing from the plains. The colors had changed little, but they were brighter, as if it were somehow closer to afternoon than night.

"I am not sure. I awoke at noon and found you asleep on the floor. Several hours have past since then and it's almost evening."

Biting back a curse, I finally managed to stand up. Mark continued to regard me clinically, though honestly I think he was the one who needed the examination: although I felt ashamed for having made myself so vulnerable in front of an apparent stranger, I felt energized and refreshed. Mark, although much improved, still looked weak.

Concerned about our late start, I asked him if he would be able to begin the journey immediately. He said that, yes, he would be able. So it was with little fanfare and much haste that we began our journey to Bulgar. I walked ahead, guiding my horse, Valiant, by the reins with Mark on top of her.

We journeyed continuously, pausing only at dusk to wait for the light of the moon and stars and to eat a brief meal of course bread and smoked game. The warm summer air and our late slumbers allowed us to continue far into the night in an attempt to make up for lost time. I set as fast a pace as the light of the moon would allow. With my concentration firmly set on the imaginary path and Mark with his fatigue, we never spoke except when I asked if he needed anything. His reply was invariably no. Mark seemed content to simply slump against Valiant's neck, alternating between a light slumber and thousand mile stare as the gears of his mind ground themselves on who knows what.

As for me, I let my mind wander as my body moved automatically out of long experience. It was still monotony, but it was something I had become inured to long ago. Besides, at least I was moving, you know?

It took most of that night and the next day, but by the second day's afternoon, I was confident that we would be within the walls of Bulgar before nightfall. I looked back and saws that Mark had once again fallen asleep. Taking advantage of his unconsciousness, I briefly halted our one-horse caravan so that I could make sure my money purse was still where I hid it. My plan was to show Mark to a healer and then leave him at one of the inns. Once I was sure that he would be alright, I would go back to wandering the plains of Sacae, perfecting my skills with the sword, becoming stronger. "_Perhaps I will eventually be able to revenge my mother and father…"_

It is ironic that an hour later I caught site of white smoke from a large bonfire over a hill to the west and the aroma of roasted game. Sick of being alone with Mark and hoping to barter for some fresh meat, I climbed to the top of the rise to get a better look of our fellow travelers. I pulled out a spyglass that had been given as a gift years ago and looked down at the camp. The act may have been paranoid, but it ended up saving both of our lives.

Imagine my surprise and rage when I looked down only to see a party of bandits. They were hunched in a circle near their fire, eating together, and apparently in conversation. Glancing back at their horses and packs, I could make a good guess that they were preparing for a raid. "_Probably off to go steal from some defenseless farmers," _I thought, growing angrier by the minute.

I counted off five bandits. _"It'd be a close one,"_ I thought, "_I have someone else I have to look after right now. It's not just myself that I'd be risking in attacking them and the villagers who live outside the city generally tend to be well protected…I could just run ahead and warn the guards..._" it was then that my eyes fell on their weapons. They were nothing fancy, crude iron and poorly maintained. However, as I looked closer, I noticed that several of them were notched and caked in dry blood.

For an unknown amount of time I simply lay there, my spyglass honed down on the bloody weapons. All the old memories of my village, the kids I played with, the elders, my parents, all of it came back with startling clarity. I knew what they would be doing. For a moment all I knew was the desire to simply walk down there and end all of their miserable lives. The anger faded quickly though, replaced by a nauseous terror. I had never been in a real fight before despite my training and it suddenly dawned on me that I could actually _die_.

For what seemed like an eternity, I lay there concealed on the hilltop, debating what to do. I could take Valiant and run ahead to the guards, but I did not know exactly where they would attack and by the time I reached the guards and persuaded them to come with me, it would probably be too late. Much to my shame, I found I no longer cared about my tribe or my parents or the innocents who would likely die. I simply wanted to live and running ahead offered me life and a chance, a small one, but still a chance, that I could save the villagers as well.

"_Besides,"_ I thought, as I began to unconsciously stand up, _"they might not even be planning on attacking anyone. That blood could have come from an old raid… gods know bandits aren't much for cleanliness…maybe hunting_…"

"_Oh yes, heaven knows that you always use _broadswords _and _axes_ for skinning rabbits!"_

Before I knew what had happened, I was running as fast as I could back to Valiant and Mark, who now appeared to be awake. Without a second glance at him, I grabbed Valiant's reins.

"What is it?" Mark asked.

My response came in a breathless rush, "There are bandits over the hill. They're about to attack some of the nearby villagers and we…I'm…" I suddenly found that my thoughts had deserted me once again.

I gazed up helplessly at Mark, who only looked back with casual disinterest.

"And…" He prompted, making a small motion with his head.

"_And I'm going to leave a bunch of helpless villagers to their fate, that's what, you insane fool!" _I didn't say that, but I was ready to break down in tears over the conflict raging within me. Scenes of dead villagers, my possible death, running towards the guards, and my parent's corpses all assaulted me.

"What are you planning?" Mark asked, giving me a piercing glance that once again left me feeling as if my spirit was being laid bare to him.

Mark continued without waiting for my response, seemingly reading both my thoughts and the situation in an instant. "You have two options Lyn of Lorca: on the one hand, you, with your youth, lack of experience, and the rather _obvious_ distraction of fear can attempt to single-handily defeat a band of armed men and save some peasants who might not even need saving."

I was taken aback for a moment, hearing my cowardly thoughts thrown coming from him, except there was no fear in him, only the same cold, disinterest.

"On the other hand, you leave me behind and use your horse to run ahead to the guards. You remain safe, I remain safe, and you've done all that is prudent."

"But, but that's _wrong_!" I spluttered. Mark's response came swiftly.

"According to _whom_? Mother Earth? Father Sky? Foolish girl, consider your abilities. It is stupid to risk yourself against these men when more than likely you will only add your own corpse. These peasants have lived on the same piece of dirt for generations, do you honestly believe they do not know the dangers they face? If they are not prepared for something so common as a bunch of plains bandits then they deserve to die. As it is you only weaken them and risk yourself."

For a long moment I could only stare at Mark. Initially I had thought he was mocking me, calling me on my cowardice, but as he continued I could see that he was actually arguing _for_ cowardice. My sense of justice was easier to stir when it was not trying to pit itself against my own conscience. Now that Mark was advocating abandoning those villagers, villagers so like my parents and tribesmen, it caused my resolve to steel.

"You can do what you want." I said, my tone matching the frost of his. "Feel free to continue on your own. All you have to do is continue heading northwest and you will arrive at Bulgar within a few hours. If you have any honor in that tiny little frame of yours, then you will leave Valiant at the Gallant Knight Inn."

With that, I simply turned my back on him and walked back towards the bandit's camp.

**Red Notes**

**1) **Another fun chapter to write, though Lyn once again gave me trouble. I have to display her hesitancy to fight and her inexperience while still making it very clear that she is far from some helpless country bumpkin. I also really wanted to show just what a strong moral force she posses. Seriously, she is consciously making a choice that she knows might kill her in order to protect some people who she never sees.

**2) **Mark is beginning to display his extraordinary perception in this chapter. That trait of his sometimes proves a difficulty because it's easy to overdo it. I can't have him be completely all-knowing and besides, it's often better in manipulation to act like you _don't _know. Mark is supposed to be the master at manipulation…this means he knows when he can use brute force and when it's more efficient to use subtly. This point comes up more in later chapters as well.


	3. First Blood

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

"_I need to get closer to the enemy."_

At the moment, they were spread out varying distances from the camp site. I did my best to creep invisibly through the out shrubbery so as to get within striking distance, taking advantage of what little vegetation there was and the glare from the dying sun. My plan was to simply get within striking distance of the nearest bandit then try to take them on, one by one. I just had to hope that they ran back individually and not as a group.

"_And I also have to hope that I can actually beat them one-on-one."_

Eventually I reached a small patch of shrubbery that offered some concealment. After a few moments, my patience was rewarded with all, but one of the bandits temporarily leaving the camp site. I waited for several a couple more minutes and none of the others returned.

"_This is it,"_ I thought, _"now's the time to attack."_ My pulse pounded in my veins as I crept past the tents, past the fire, past the horses…closer, closer…

I realized, too late, my mistake when all of the horses whinnied.

Annoyed by the racket, the bandit turned. "Shut it, ya' miserable bags'a…hallo, whativ we got 'ere?"

"_Oh no!"_

I stood there with my sword drawn, frozen twelve steps too many away.

"Hey there prit'ty, wha don you put tha' there thing away?" He gave me leer, letting his eyes run over the course of my body. "Ya' mite' 'urt 'urself, haha!"

Holding my sword in a death grip, I took two halting steps forward. This only made him laugh louder. He began walking forward slowly, one hand on the handle of his axe and the other waving me forward. I'm sure that if it had been possible, my heart would have jumped up through my throat and danced in my mouth.

"Stay back!" I half yelped.

"Ahaha, hey Boss'!" He yelled, calling out to his companions, "Git'urself ova here and see wha' I found!"

I guess, somewhere deep down, I realized that if I just stood there and allowed his friends to come over, I was dead or worse. Without another thought or word, I began sprinting blindly towards the bandit, my sword cocked to my right side.

The bandit and my surroundings were a blur. I was moving purely on adrenaline fueled instinct. However, once I got within six paces of him, something strange happened. In an instant, time slowed and the blur disappeared to where I could see the now slowly moving bandit in every detail. I was vaguely wondering if that was how my father had felt during his first fight when I noticed the axe the bandit was apparently raising over his head with the intent to split mine. Lunging forward, the band charged as well. I was so alert that time seemed reduced to a series of snapshots:

_Five__paces_: My thoughts and muscles seem to be moving like molasses. My body is numb. I thrust my right heel out, planting it firmly in the earth.

_Four_: The axe is moving so fast…my right leg thrusts me left and forward.

_Three_: Stop, plant the left, lunge right!

_Two:_ The axe missed! I'm alive! I'm next to him; he's turning!

_One_: Pivot, swing in a high arc, aim for the neck…

I continued the spin, my momentum carrying beyond what my feet were capable of supporting, landing me face down in the dirt. Without thought, I rolled over to the left. I was about to stand up when a voice seems to scream through my head, _"BLOCK!"_

In an instant, my sword was up in both my hands and in the best guard that being flat on my back allowed. A second later a shadow loomed over my head and a jarring shock raced through my arms as a very large axe was brought to a quivering halt by my sword.

"Who do you think you are?" The mass above me roared. "Do you think you can stand up to Batta the Beast?" The axe was jerked upwards, nearly taking my sword with it. I threw out on my left hand and propped myself up while rotating my blade downwards, somehow deflecting Batta's next crushing blow. His momentum turned away, Batta barreled towards the ground. I instinctively took advantage of his helplessness and thrust my sword out. It was sloppy, but I pierced the side of his stomach.

Unfortunately I somehow managed to spear him far enough laterally that I only hit muscle, leaving him strong enough to bash me in the side of the head with a fist. My vision exploded in stars and my head was thrown back onto the ground with a sickening thud. Thankfully I managed to hold onto my sword so that when I rolled away and stood up to face a now very angry Batta the Beast, I was still armed.

We both stood there, shaking from adrenaline and our wounds, when Batta started crying out for his comrades.

"JENNER! REED, TOBIN! GET OVER HERE!!!" He looked around wildly. There was no answer. By now completely enraged, he turned back to me, his axe griped in both hands.

"_It all comes down to the next blow,"_ I thought, when once again, an alien command seemed to scream through my mind, forcing to my limbs to move like a marionette's. _"Right side weak, force him to turn!"_

With that silent shout still echoing in my skull, I leapt forward, then danced close into his right, forcing him to twist. I was so close that he couldn't resist attacking. His axe flew up, then flashed down, but in doing so he was forced to twist and contract his stomach muscles, muscles that my sword had already shredded.

The pain was simply too much for him. His blow still landed, but in mid-flight, he jerked his stroke as his mind reflexively flinched in order to keep him from further tearing his wounded abdominals. That spasm was all that was needed to drain his blow of its power and destroy his advantage in brute strength over me. Blocking no longer caused me to nearly drop my sword. I easily batted the blow aside, and stepping within the range of his arm, I once again thrust my sword.

This time, the results were more lethal.

"What? How…did you…" My blade had impaled him in the chest near his sternum. For a moment of helpless shock he simply gazed down, at first my blade, then at me, before he finally collapsed into unending unconsciousness.

With my sword still imbedded in the dying bandit, I fell back on the ground, a vicious nausea taking over as the effects of adrenaline and Batta's fist made themselves known. For a while I simply sat there, taking in the grim consequences of my handiwork. My mind was strangely blank. I had often thought of the moment when I would bring justice to the destroyers of my village and murderers of my parents. These were not them, but they were cut from the same cloth. Though an inner part of me revolted against what I had just done, I didn't care otherwise except for a vague sense of satisfaction and slight apprehension that I should've been feeling more than what I was.

When enough time had passed to where I felt that I could trust my legs, I made the attempt to stand up. I nearly fell down again when a burning pain erupted on my left leg. I looked down and saw that Batta's axe had apparently managed to still cause some damage: a long, angry gash made its way from near my hip to interior of my leg next to the kneecap. It wasn't deep or particularly serious, but it hurt. Using my sheath as a third leg, I managed to stand up and began to search my pockets for my spare vulnerary. Eventually, my searching fingers found it in my side pocket, clay container shattered, the precious liquid uselessly soaking my robes.

"_Blast it! Why didn't I bring my spare vulenaries?! I probably have at least four sitting uselessly back near my saddle!"_

A ragged attempt at a shout suddenly came from several feet from behind me. "Could there, perhaps, be something missing?"

Whirling around as best I could with a gimp leg, I found myself once again staring into the blank mask that made up Mark's face. He was standing a good ways off, one hand grasping his black cane and the other holding up my satchel with the spare vulenaries that I had foolishly forgotten. He didn't appear injured, but all the old weakness seemed to have returned to the point where he could barely stand.

I was suddenly very angry. I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps it the fact that he seemed to be taunting me with my mistake of forgetting the vulenaries, the fact that his presence would be a liability when the other bandits appeared, or maybe my mind simply hadn't left full fighting mode. "Mark what are you doing here? You're going to get us both killed!"

He seemed to find the situation ironic. "I believe we had already established that it was your idea to nearly get us killed for the sake of some worthless villagers."

First the coward endangers both of us in an already very dangerous situation and then he had the nerve to unwittingly remind me of my weakness in even considering running away.

"Just shut-up and bring those over here!" Was my terse reply.

He did, though it took him a while. Mark didn't limp over, but he seemed so exhausted that even covering a couple dozen feet seemed a major undertaking for him. Eventually he reached me and, without a word, handed me one of the spare vulenaries. Downing the healing potion in one gulp, it quickly went to work. In an instant my leg looked as if it had never even been scratched.

Without another word, I returned my sheath to its customary spot on my belt and brought my sword up in a guard, searching the surrounding area for the remaining three bandits. Without looking back at him, I spoke in whisper, "Just stay close to me and I'll protect you. There's still three more out there. I'm surprised they haven't come back already."

His response caught me by surprise. "They won't be coming back at all. I already dealt with them."

"But…how?"

In reply, he simply gave his cane a twist, revealing it to be a concealed sword. That certainly explained the lack of reinforcements, though the absence of any blood on his sword was rather odd. However, I was too excited at the time to pay attention to it. He quickly put the cane back together, the wood forming together seamlessly without any sign of what it had been.

He began speaking again, noting how my eyes had moved from his cane to the rest of him.

"No, I have not been injured. I'm afraid I was already very weak and this altercation has done nothing to help. It is you, however, who should be thankful. The bandits that I killed were weaklings, beginners hoping to chance a few scraps from the table that I easily killed as they slept on guard. The two you fought, however, were the leaders. You barely managed to avoid being killed by the first man and that was _with_ me assisting you. How you defeated Batta, even I don't know."

"_You_ helped _me_?!" That he defeated the three other bandits, even sleeping, was bad enough. That he was somehow the reason that I had defeated two very large bandits single-handedly in my first blood fight stung my pride. This was important: it was supposed to prove that I could actually fight, that a lone woman had a real chance of avenging her murdered parents.

"I am by trade, a tactician. Are you familiar with term?"

I had heard of the name before. My father had often associated with the knights of Caelin and when I was a little girl he would tell me stories of famous battles in the past or of the wars he had fought in.

"They're the ones who make up the overall plans for armies and they somehow command troops mentally with magic jewels." I received a nod from him, confirming that I was correct. So, my enigmatic guest was a tactician, but that still didn't make sense.

"Ok, but what does that have to do with anything? My father sometimes served under a tactician and I know that I'm not wearing any magic jewel and neither are you."

"Very astute of you…no you are not wearing one of the jewels of command that are usually required. However, I am not an ordinary tactician: I have no need of jewels to command when I wish, nor would any other master tactician."

That cleared up one mystery, but it still left several others.

"Ok, but I remember that in my father's stories, being under a tactician never sounded like what I felt during that battle."

"That's because your father was one of many being commanded and those that were commanding them were far less powerful than I. When a tactician is commanding, he is literally taking in the thoughts of all those who are under him. The same is true of when willing commands: they must be spread out amongst the many. Your father was one of many. All of those swirling thoughts and impressions are very difficult to keep track of. Even master tacticians are rarely able give more than provide a vague impulse of where to go in a group larger than thirty individuals. In larger engagements, tacticians will command only through subordinates, only using the abilities of the jewels to quickly locate their most important captains."

Here he paused, looking to me to see if I was following him. Still feeling a little overwhelmed from the battle, but tracking nevertheless, I gave a nod. Receiving the affirmative, Mark continued with his lecture.

"This fight was different from your those of your father. For one, I am able to fully coordinate a group as large a company of soldiers, capable of creating out of them what is nearly a single entity. The greatest tacticians of history could do this, if they truly pushed themselves, with three at most, and even then only for a short period of time. Besides, you are mistaking command for control. Tacticians do not literally meld the thoughts of their warriors nor can they control them. They are, in essence, normal commanders who have a magical replacement for conventional battlefield signaling. Second, you are only one individual, thus allowing me to bend my will upon you completely. What you feel when under such focus varies, depending on both the individual's personality and mental and physical states."

As he had been explaining the processes behind tacticians to me, I had had the horrible feeling that it had really been Mark fighting through my hands. What he had just said made me feel better, but I wanted to be completely sure. Otherwise it would mean that I hadn't just proven myself in my first true battle, that I hadn't really conquered my fears.

"Wait, so it was me who was actually fighting, right? I mean, you didn't fight for me did you?"

Though Mark gave no outward sign of having noticed the worries behind my question, his answer helped sooth my flustered confidence anyway.

"No, I did not." I just opening mouth to say something, when Mark started talking again. I kept my lips thinly pressed together. He was getting very good about interrupting me.

"It troubles you that I helped directly in this fight. Don't let it. What I did is the equivalent of the spectator shouting a warning to the fighter before the blow falls. If you hadn't already been moving, if you hadn't already _known_ the danger, you would've died and left me to clean up the mess."

"But you…"

Mark rolled his eyes up skyward, "Ah, Sacae's pride…" Father Sky, we have emotion again! "What do you wish me to say? That you are a perfect warrior, walking through the ranks of men as easily as you do grass? You presume much. You are young and comparatively weak, with the potential for immense growth. You made mistakes in the last fight and you made good decisions. But if you deny yourself the ultimate strength, the strength to use others…"

I sighed. It certainly wasn't what I had been expecting, but it did put things into some kind of perspective. It hadn't been someone else's courage, wits, or reflexes that had won the day. They had been my own. Mark had helped, but hadn't he said himself that it was it was, in the end, all me and that it was a strength to be able to work with others? My continued musings were soon interrupted by Mark.

"We must leave here immediately. We have saved those you wished to save and it's almost dark." Without another word, he pivoted on his heel and began to shamble back to wherever he had tied up Valiant. Seeing that he could barely walk on his own, I came up behind him and then slung his arm over my shoulders. I expected him to protest, but he offered none. Falling into an easy, if awkward rhythm, we made our way back to Valiant.

**Red Notes**

**1) **Ugh…despite how fun it was for me to think up the details of the battle scene, that whole explanation of what a tactician really does and how they operate was a major pain in the posterior. Think about it: this is where I first define a principal character's capabilities. Sure I can just write it in later that he's lying (and he's definitely hiding something), but if I just scrap all of the explanations here, it makes for a major roadblock later on. The biggest problem is writing it in such a way as to make him powerful and unique and have everyone know it…yet still give me enough leeway that I can surprise the whole FE party when Mark really lets himself go.

**2) **It's been commented on that Lyn wouldn't be able to notice the details that I have her describing in this fight, either because she simply wouldn't know them in the first place or because everything was happening to fast. My defense against the first point is that I believe it's perfectly plausible that she would have a working knowledge of anatomy. Would she really know the same names as us? No, even if English/Japanese was somehow the native language of Sacae. As a hunter, a trained warrior tutored under a veteran fighter, and a nomad who must perform their own first aid, I find it unlikely that she _wouldn't_ know. As to the second charge, I think that's more valid. It's certainly possible that she wouldn't be able to notice such details in thick of the fight, but I do believe it's also very possible that she would remember them. The brain remembers things best when its excited…at least impressions and certain details (think combat veterans)…Lyn might very well be able to recall certain "highlights" from her fight in crystal clarity after the fact.


	4. Not Alone

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

The rest our journey was a quiet one. As soon as Mark made it back onto Valiant, he fell into a deep slumber, for which I was grateful, because I had many things to think about.

By nightfall we were within sight of Bulgar. I wasn't ready to go in though. I had something I wanted to ask of Mark, even though I was afraid that he'd refuse. I guided Valiant and the still-sleeping Mark over to a nearby tree where I tied her up and then fell asleep at their sides, determined to make my request in the morning.

Sunrise came and passed. I woke up early and made breakfast, but Mark continued to sleep. When he finally opened his eyes, I almost expected them to snap open, as when we had first met, but to my surprise, he greeted morning the same way as any common man: by looking around as if he didn't have a clue of where he was. I savored that sense of normality, however brief, allowing it to comfort me, then, taking a deep breath, I began to talk.

"Good morning Mark. Are you awake?" He gave a small grunt then pushed himself upright.

"That fight must have take a lot out of you yesterday. It's almost noon!" He didn't bother responding to my false-enthusiasm, instead he merely gave me his usual reply of a stare that was free of whatever traces of sleep that it once held.

"Say Mark…I want to talk to you about something. You have some experience in the ways of war, I can see. Would you allow me to travel with you?" So much for delicacy, huh?

He regarded me for a moment with that deadpan expression that seemed to have become permanently frozen to his features after his first awakening. His answer was the last I had expected.

"Very well. What about your parents, your family? You belong to a tribe at the very least." I had expected a long, drawn out argument and I had prepared a number of stories about wanting to train so that I could become stronger, that I was tired of being confined to the traditional role of a woman and wanted to adventure. His quick agreement caught me off guard, as did his mention of my parents.

I once again surprised myself when memories that I had tried so hard to bury under anger and an iron will violently forcibly resurfaced: the slaughter of my parents, the grass on their graves only six months old, the disgrace of being rejected as leader, the scattering of my tribe, it all came rushing back. Before I knew what was happening I heard a voice, _my_ voice, saying, "My mother and father…died six months ago. My people ---the Lorca---they don't…I'm the last of my tribe." It was my voice, curiously warped and almost emotionless as Mark's. I almost didn't recognize it; I certainly didn't remember deciding to speak.

"Bandits attacked, and…they killed so…the tribe was scattered. Father was our chieftain, and I wanted to protect our people." It was all coming out in a rush now, I could not stop talking, "I am so young and my tribe was old-fashioned. They wouldn't follow a woman. No one would follow me."

Ashamed, but feeling oddly better in confessing, I took another deep breath, trying to look Mark in the eye, but failing. "I'm sorry. I've been alone for so long and..." No, I was done. I had mourned their passing bitterly, but I was tired of mourning. I did my best to compose myself before beginning again. I had to get it out, the hatred and vengeance and urge to do _something_ had been festering inside me for too long. "Mark, I want -- I must become stronger so that I may avenge my parent's death!" When I said that, I felt my resolve crystallize.

I didn't care anymore what he thought. I simply wanted to make myself known, to say the words that I had said to myself so many times to another human being. Mark might not have been a good example of humanity, but he was there; calmly giving me ear as I bared my heart, offering neither judgment nor pity, neither of which I could not accept because of my pride as a Sacaen.

"Yesterday's battle taught me something. I won't become stronger alone. Mark, tell me that you'll train me, that you'll let me travel with you!" For several heart beats he simply stared at me, once again repeating our first meeting. He looked at me as a shrewd buyer would any offered merchandise, weighing the cost against his desire to acquire it and potential usefulness. Eventually, he gave his answer,

"I do owe you my life and…retribution is something I am very well acquainted with…I accept your offer to follow me. For two years, if you still wish to, _I _will follow _you_. I will teach you what I know of war and help you in your vengeance."

I couldn't believe that he had actually agreed! Finally, after all those long days and nights, I wouldn't be alone. I would have someone else to share my burden.

"You will? That's wonderful! Thank you! Oh, thank you! We'll be better off working together, I know it. You'll be my master tactician and I'll be your peerless warrior!"

I was going on like an idiot, no doubt confirming the prejudices of those who had refused to follow me as the new leader of our tribe and thus sealing the Lorca's fate, but I didn't care. I was too relieved.

**Red Notes**

**1) **This is one of those cases where I think I may have followed the game's script to faithfully. Lyndis basically breaks down in tears and, while originally wrote that in, I felt as though it were inappropriate. Yet, I still wanted this to be an emotional moment for her. After all, it does take some unusual circumstances (not to mention thinking) for someone to ask a seemingly psychotic stranger to start traveling with them. This is also the true beginning of the strange relationship between Lyn and Mark…the game and many other fanfics portray her as being particularly close to him/her and I find that that is appropriate. This may yet need a major rewrite, but more than likely, it'll just be a few tweaks. If any of you have some good ideas, shoot me a message.


	5. Footsteps of Fate

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

I had visited Bulgar a few times when I was much younger and it had left an almost fairytale impression on me. The plains of Sacae may always be the most beautiful place to me, but Sacae's largest city didn't fail to take my breath away. The heat wasn't so bad that day and it seemed everyone was walking around in the streets: colorful merchants hawking strange treasures from exotic lands like Nabata Desert, small children dashing around after balls and performing tricks, the relaxed guardsmen of the city watch.

Mark was content to follow me around as I took my time purchasing supplies for our journey. I had no clear idea where or what we should do. When I asked Mark, he said that if what I truly wanted to do was become a stronger warrior, then I should become a mercenary. He argued that not only would I receive all of his instruction, but I would all so be forced to excel or starve, to pit myself against every combatant under the sun and not only defeat them, but learn from them. The idea made me slightly nervous, but the challenge in it was exciting.

He first suggested the militaristic country of Bern: it was relatively close and offered ready employment, but I rejected it without a second thought. I told Mark up front that I didn't want to go and serve in the country of the destroyers of my tribe. He simply responded with his usual, "foolish girl", something that was quickly becoming a trademark of his, and told me that no matter where I went, there would be people who would happily kill me. Mark was cheerful like that.

Rejecting Bern didn't seem to bother him much though, as he then told me my next logical option was one of the cantons of Lycia, where I could work for any number of employers and, should I feel the urge, win through my prowess the title of a Dame.

"Lycia", he explained while we reclined comfortably near a table, "is as a family. Ostia is the paranoid and self-interested father. The others fear its might and rarely stand up to it directly, certainly never in an armed revolt. The league of nobles, a confederacy of nobles, state workers, and wealthy merchants, is the weak, but crafty mistress that moves behind the scenes to influence the husband in her favor. And the sons…the sons are the individual cantons, all of them constantly helping and betraying one another with the hope of one day putting down their rival siblings and parents to win the estate."

When I asked him how this was supposed to persuade me that traveling to Lycia was a good idea, he gave his practiced answer of contradictory facts.

"You will go to Lycia because you despise Bern too much and Sacae is nothing more than a flee-bitten wasteland where you will always be limited in how far you can grow, in how far you can push yourself."

My pride as a Sacaen was outraged and I was about to let him know when he cut me off to continue his address. I didn't know at the time, but I had been set up for one of his dubious "lessons". In time, I would become very familiar with them, though we could rarely agreed on how to apply his lessons due to our…somewhat different moral standards.

"Before you go anywhere you must first learn to view this world objectively, not subjectively under influence of pride. There are no single-edged swords in life Lyn of Lorca, only double. You look at your country, your people, through eyes colored by the pride of your people, Sacae's people. This pride gives you a tremendous force, a will to excel, yet it also blinds you to your own weaknesses. Sacae is the most fertile country in Elibe, it's people enduring, independent, and capable. But it is also a nation of uneducated peasants barely held together by a common name, insignificant outside its role as a breadbasket and easily conquered."

Mark was lucky that the food was so good and I was so hungry. As it was, I wanted to stab him in his eye with his own fork. He was fortunate to get away without even so much as my wine goblet meeting his overlarge forehead.

"Lycia is a family on the verge of tearing itself apart, but it is also a family that will unite together to save one or the other against any outsider and its society is a greater friend to the common man than any other nation. No where else will you find the same number of individuals who are organized solely for the betterment of their fellow man. Bern is the home of those who murdered your parents, but its architects have the envy of the world and their prince the potential to be the greatest ruler of memory."

That was one of many lessons that Mark gave during the brief time that I knew him. Despite his arrogance and lack of concern for others, I had correctly judged that he, "had some experience in the ways of war" in addition to many, many other topics. Perhaps it was simply me latching on to anyone I could find after the trauma of my parent's death or the destruction of all that had been familiar to me, but I trusted him.

Mark, in turn, would repay that trust in the stormy days that were ahead of me. It is well that he did, because my time as a mercenary was over before it began. Ever since the death of my parents, the footsteps of Fate had been growing louder and louder at my back. As we made our way through the streets for the final time, Fate finally caught up with me.

"Oh my heart! What a dazzling vision of loveliness!"

I turned around to walk backwards in Mark's train, wondering what could prompt a person to make such proclamations in public. There was a quick clatter of hooves and I soon found myself looking up, up at a young knight in green armor. He was young to be a full knight, my age or perhaps a little older, and quite handsome as well. He wore a matching green band of cloth that encircled his head and the dark hair that grew on it. His eyes had a near magnetic shimmer in them that went well with the bright smile on his face. For a brief moment, I allowed myself an instant of girlish fancy as the knight seemed to examine every inch of my face. I'd like to say "brief" again, because he soon put end to it.

"Wait, O beauteous one! Would you not favor me with your name? Or better yet, your company?"

I didn't immediately reply, but my expression must have had something along the lines of, _"Excuse me, but who are you and _what_ are you doing?"_ Eventually, the awkward pause got to me and I groped for a way to politely change the topic. So I asked,

"Where are you from, sir knight, that you speak so freely to a stranger?"

I guess he took it as a positive cue since he did the seemingly impossible by smiling even wider, nearly blinding me with his perfectly formed teeth. It was a very nice smile, indeed, I was kind of happy to have a genuine one directed at me after having to live with Mark's blank stares, but his horse was still in my way.

"Ha! I thought you'd never ask! I am from Lycia. I hail from the Caelin canton, home to men of passion and fire!" He was beginning to annoy me. All he wanted to do was pick up some damsel, but I had more serious business than playing with some dainty of a knight.

"Shouldn't that be 'home to callow oafs with loose tongues'?" I hoped he could take a hint, though I had been afraid it might have been too subtle for him.

"Ooooh... You're even lovelier when you're cruel." Apparently it was or he was just determined enough to ignore it. Getting a little desperate myself, I glanced over to Mark for some support. All he gave was vaguely amused look before returning to his examination of the mounted knight. Finally I got sick of the whole the deal. I had enough. It was time to end the conversation.

"Let's go Mark. I have nothing more to say."

I physically grabbed Mark by his robes so that I could drag him away with me when the green knight danced his horse back in my way. I was too shocked at the man's gall to say anything, but I had did shoot the cavalier a very nasty glare. Being with Mark must have been good practice because he visibly flinched before recovering his dazzling smile.

Flattery had failed so he decided to try a different tact, "Please, I…" Thankfully for all our sake's he was interrupted.

"Sain, hold your tongue!" We both looked over to see another knight in crimson armor slowly making his way through the crowd.

"Ah, Kent!" Sain yelled out, waving the other cavalier over as if to join him. As Kent maneuvered his horse closer to where we were, Sain leaned over and cupped his mouth so that he could whisper to us as if he had some great secret to tell.

"That's Kent. He's a little too serious for his own good, but not a bad fellow. If you'd like an introduction I'm sure I can arrange it." Before I could shoot him another outraged look, he turned back to shout to his approaching companion.

"Why so severe an expression my boon companion? Surely 'twas not something that _I_ did?" I was amazed me that he could maintain a perfectly innocent expression. Kent was less than amazed when he finally got over.

"If you were just a little more serious, I wouldn't _need_ a severe expression. We're on a mission Sain!" Kent's face was beginning to match the color of his armor. Sain didn't seem to mind at all, in fact he seemed to be enjoying the whole experience.

"I know that, but," and there he gestured down to me, "how could I remain silent in the presence of such beauty?" Sain made it sound as if it were most the natural thing in the world that he had stopped to accost me. Kent looked ready to start up again when Sain held up a finger to his face and told Kent straight to his face that, "It would be discourteous," with all the seriousness of saying the grass was purple.

Kent was starting to turn a nice shade of purple. "What do _you_ know of courtesy?!" While they argued I had made a couple of useless attempts to interrupt. They looked like they were getting ready for another go-around so I made one more attempt before I resorted to my sword.

"Um, excuse me," I said, giving Kent a light tap on his crimson armor, "but if you could be so kind as to move your horses…" That finally succeeded in tearing his attention away from Sain. When he did look down at me though, it was with an uncomfortable stare. He sat there for a few seconds with his brows knitted before he finally moved.

"Of course. My apologies…" With that, he regained his composure with a speed that Mark might have admired and pulled his horse's reins to the side. "Thank you," I was very grateful for him distracting Sain, even if it had taken a little while. "You, at least, seem honorable enough."

"_Finally,"_ I thought, walking through as Kent's horse moved itself out of our way. _"now we can finally begin our journey and I can start training."_ Another one of those small, innocent moments where Fate steps in. Ah, if Kent hadn't suddenly recognized me, what then?

"Pardon me, but…"

"_Now what?"_ I thought wearily, turning back around to face Kent, who was now looking at my face intently.

"…have we met before?"

My face must have showed my disbelief. _"This CAN'T be happening!"_ Sain couldn't believe it either, though he seemed as delighted as he was surprised.

"Hey, no fair. I saw her first Kent. Have you no honor?!" Sain looked like he had been mortally offended, though he playfully punched Kent in the arm. Kent looked ready to strangle him. I was ready to strangle them both.

Spinning on my heel, I pushed my way past them and the remaining travelers on the road with Mark in my wake. Kent sounded like he was calling out apologies, but I ignored them and soon we had lost both knights.

Once I was reasonably sure that the knights had given up following us, I turned to Mark with and with a wry smile said, "Maybe Bern wasn't such a bad idea after all."

**Red Notes**

**1) **I like Mark as the schoolmaster so to speak and this is where I feel he first really gets to slide into that role with Lyn. As Lyndis says, Mark knows more than a thing or two about things and that's not just fighting. There's not enough time in this story to really give the thought justice, but I wanted to pay homage to the education she's getting. Lyn really is receiving a world class lesson in power and leading.

**1) **Trying to adapt the speech between Lyn and the knights from the script. Initially, I thought that I would have to ignore most of it, especially with Sain…I generally dislike Sain as nothing more than the Dandy, but the more I let my imagination run with what was given, the more I liked what I saw.


	6. What's In A Name?

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

Once we had made it out of Bulgar, I suddenly remembered the water skins that I was in charge of had been rotting at the seams. We had an immense distance to cover before the next town, but the city's merchants were already closing up shop and I was reluctant to head back in case some other knight decided to pick up a new damsel. As it was, I led us around the outlying buildings, doing my best not to look back at Mark. 

Eventually I found a suitable shop: a general outfitter's store. I remember it stood out like a eye-sore from the other shops in the area. Instead of being constructed like the other shops in the area, namely a compact clay square, it was a massive, two story animal barn that had been converted into a store. It was painted a bright red and I'm sure you could have seen it for miles. Leaving Mark to tend to Valiant, I headed inside.

The place was absolute chaos. The upper level was devoted to storage alone, save for a massive rectangular hole that had been cut in the middle of the floor to allow for some desperately needed ventilation. When I looked up through that hole, I could see straight through to the ceiling, where large canvas openings let the light stream in. Meanwhile, the ground floor was mess of carefully stacked merchandise and customers doing there best to move around despite being packed cheek to jowl.

For a little while, I allowed myself to simply wander around the giant monstrosity, as I gazed in wonder at seemingly every product one might need for travel and a few whose purpose I couldn't even guess at. It didn't last very long though, as I suddenly remembered Mark was waiting outside with my horse. Searching for the appropriate size seemed to take forever while sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down into my shirt. The barn might have had a big advantage in space over the traditional buildings, but in the middle of the summer it felt like I was in a giant oven.

Suddenly, I spotted them: two large, perfectly intact water skins. I made a beeline for them, shoving my way through the mass of bodies. _"Almost…there…yes!"_ I triumphantly held up the two skins. _"Now all I have to do is go over and…oh, I don't believe it."_ There, standing near the counter, was Sain. He didn't notice me because he was in conversation with someone that I took to be the owner. _"Why? Why, oh why Father Sky, did _he_ have to show up?" _

I waited for a little while to see if Sain would leave, but when he finished talking to the owner, he began browsing the shelves himself. For a moment I weighed the options of trying to sneak up to counter with my goods vs. simply throwing the coins at the owner then departing. Eventually the absurdity of the situation hit me and I was reminded that while Mark was waiting for me, I hiding from a harmless a knight in a sweltering barn.

Once I made up my mind, I calmly made my way over to counter, paid for my purchase, and then headed for the exit. I made it halfway when I glanced over my shoulder to see Sain suddenly recognize me. He became very excited and started shouting what I thought must have been pleas for me to wait.

I pretended not to notice him and turned around the corner as soon as I got to it. I wasn't very worried that he would catch up to me since it would take him forever to push his way through all of those people. Still, I was going at a near run when I rounded the store's corner and headed off to meet up with Mark. It took me quite a while to find them, but eventually I recognized Valiant's head and I made my way over.

I skidded to a halt in front of Mark when I nearly missed them coming around a corner. Without a word, I strapped the empty water skins onto the rest of Valiant's baggage. When I was confident that they were secure I turned back to Mark to let him know we were ready. Mark, however, lifted his nose at me in disgust.

"What?" I fairly gasped out. That's when the stinging in my eyes caused me to notice that I was soaking in my own sweat. I let out my own sigh before asking him, "You think you smelled like daisies and lavender after three days lying in my hut? Who do you think changed your bedpan?" He ignored that, choosing instead to dart his puppet eyes around us as we started walking.

After a while, I noticed the straps on the baggage were still a little loose. I gave a quick jerk, making Valiant snort at the tightened leather straps. She was used to racing over the plains with only me and a load of arrows on her back, not packing enough supplies to equip a small army for a day.

As I turned and stroked her flanks Mark picked up our earlier argument, "No one changed my bedpan. I was too dehydrated to even urinate and you certainly don't have a proper bedpan." At first I could only look over at Mark. I couldn't believe he had actually decided to resume a stupid argument, especially one that we had ended five minutes ago. I began chuckling as Mark lead Valiant forward by the reins.

He hadn't soiled himself, in fact I had not at that point noticed him answer nature's call at all, but it was still fun to try and aggravate him. "Hehe, whatever you say Mark." I could only laugh at Mark's apparent distaste for anything unrefined. I had noticed him frowning before first mounting Valiant (I rarely had the chance to wash her) and how he carefully maintained his own cleanliness. It was also something of a minor mystery to me how he managed to keep to his hair so carefully groomed when I didn't own a single proper razor. As a Sacaen nomad, such standards of hygiene seemed pointless to me.

Still, I relished poking fun at him. It might have been childish, but I cherished any humanity that I could tease out of him. He was so impervious to life's up's and down's that interacting with his "foolish" companions was the only way to get a notable reaction. Even then, he often seemed so far ahead of everyone else that not even Sain or, later on, Serra at their best (or worst, whatever you prefer) could faze him. So you can probably understand that Mark nearly gave a heart attack when he lunged passed Valiant and grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt.

He looked completely enraged. "See here girl," he fairly shouted in my face, his spittle managing to cross the arm's width between us to hit me squarely in the face, "I won't take any lip from some saucy wench who thinks she's an equal to a man just because she waves a sword around!" Mark effortlessly jerked me up towards him, so that our noses were almost touching. I was so horrified that I almost missed his desperate whispers, "…two to our right, one left, one behind." His face never lost the mask of rage. "If we wait, we'll die in streets. Make for the plains!" After that, he thrust the reins back in my hands and practically threw me forward.

"NOW MOVE YOU GODSFORSAKEN WHORE, MOVE!" I practically leapt forward at the thunder crack in his voice only for him to instantly grab me on the sleeve and jerk me towards the right. "NO, NOT THAT WAY, _THAT _WAY!!!" Mark pointed his cane off to a side path, which I promptly went for as fast I could manage in the crowds.

It was tough going with so many people. Some even tried to help me by yelling at Mark or hitting him. One kind man tried to grab me in order to reassure me that, no, I did not have to go with the insane man bludgeoning passerby's out of his way. Unfortunately, they didn't understand that I needed to do what the insane man said in order to live.

When Valiant and I finally put some distance between us and the crowds, I stopped for a second to turn around and check on Mark. For a brief, terrifying second I thought I had lost him in the crowd, but he soon burst out of the crowd himself. He actually looked surprised that I was that I was still there. He came sprinting towards us, signaling me to keep running. I hesitated for a second, long enough for me to see first one then two more men break out of the crowd behind him and start running toward us.

It was pretty clear that they were after us. I ignored Mark's screams to run ahead, but then it seemed that I blinked and found myself sprinting in a few feet in front of Mark. Looking back I could see our trailing pursuers, who were now clearly visible as six men. Casting a bewildered glance around, I noticed we were no longer even in the outlying villages. We were in the plains. _"How did we get here so fast?"_ Then I noticed that my heart was pounding faster than I could ever remember and that I could barely get enough air down. For a moment, I just stood there next to Valiant, bent over and gasping.

I had no time to ponder my circumstances though as our winded pursuers staggered up to us. I contemplated running again, but Mark shook his head in a silent "no." I gave Mark a worried glance, hoping he would offer some hint as to what we were supposed to do, but he didn't give any clues. To my amazement, he wasn't even breathing hard and his deadpan calm had returned as if it had never left. _"He's not even winded," _I thought in amazement, _"heck, he's barely even sweating!"_

For what seemed like a very long time, the two of us stood facing the rough line of men who Mark claimed were murderers. It was only a matter of seconds though before the center man started slowly moving forward, his followers trailing behind and to his sides.

Then he began to talk, "Heh heh hehhh... Aren't you the pretty one! Your name is Lyndis, is it not?" I was shocked. I didn't understand how he could have known that name.

"What did you call me? Who are you?"

"Such a waste." He said, ignoring my question as he gave me an almost hungry look, "An absolute waste. The things I'll do for gold. Ah, well." Then he stopped and turned to Mark. For a little while he just stood there, daunted by those dead eyes as I had once been. Suddenly he seemed to recover his courage and he addressed Mark as he would have any commoner.

"Look here sirrah, we've got no quarrel with you. I don't know how you got mixed up with her, but she's a wanted thief for stealing from the chapels of St. Elimine. Now, right now we don't have any evidence that you're involved so if you'll just step aside, we'll forget about this whole merry chase you've led us on. The little lady won't be hurt and we pretend we never saw you. Everybody's happy, see?"

Mark favored the man with one of his dead smiles. He kept smiling as the number of breaths piled on. I later wondered what the thugs' reaction would have been if they could have divined what Mark was capable of doing to them…it doesn't matter though, because no divine revelations ever hit them.

The leader eventually tired of the wait. "Very well, I guess we'll have to…" suddenly there was the sound of horses. We all turned to see two riders speeding towards us. Seeing that they would be among us within seconds, the leader gave a shout and the whole group surged forward.

Time seemed to speed up into a blur again as I sidestep a lazy axe swing and eviscerated its owner with a draw cut. I moved on instinct, darting forward to force two of them to risk hitting each other when they swung at me. I kept at this for several seconds, alternately pressuring one before his partner would save him then switching to attack the other before they could surround me. Eventually one of them a mistake: he stepped in front of his partner. Without the threat to my sides, I easily batted aside one of his strokes and countered with disabling cut to his calf.

It wasn't long before the remaining man was staggering backwards from under my onslaught. An axe may be very powerful, but it's bulk and shape made it ill-suited to a one on one contest with a skilled sword user. All he could do was backpedal as I worked my way closer and closer. An opening soon presented itself, and I lunged forward, intending to get past his arc and stab him through the stomach. A stroke of luck saved him though.

He was backpedaling so fast that he stumbled at the moment of my lunge, causing it to go wide. He may not have been very skilled, but he was canny enough to take advantage of what luck had handed him by locking my sword and arm against his side with his own arm. Once his arm had curled around mine in vice lock, he tried to chop me in my back with the axe in his free hand. It was a good thing I had only thrust with one hand. _My_ free hand was able to lock around his axe near its head.

For a few brief seconds, we circled one another in a wild dance. I was desperately trying to break free, but at the same time I had to stay close and moving in order to avoid his axe. Despite my frantic efforts, he quickly gained the advantage. He simply had too much brute strength. Things were looking pretty bad for me when he forced me to be still for a moment, both of us temporarily locked as we strained against one another.

Had I been alone, he would have had me there. The fighter had almost overpowered me when there was an unexpected stamp of hooves followed by a green blur. The man jumped away from me just in time to avoid being speared through the side. His luck finally ran out when the second knight came barreling in and decapitated him with a single swing of his sword.

I breathed out my relief at finding myself still alive. I scanned the area for new attackers. There were none. I turned back to where the knights were circling back and nearly dropped my sword in surprise as the pair rode up to me.

"You! You're from--"

Kent cut me off before I could finish, "We can discuss that later Lady Lyndis. These ruffians obviously meant to do you harm. It would be foolish to stay in the area and wait to be attacked, especially when we won't be able to see them until they get too close strike."

For the second time that day I was shocked into silence by the use of my proper name, something that no one had ever called me. No one, that is, except my parents.

"Are you a good rider?" He asked with an arched eyebrow. I bristled inwardly at the thought that I couldn't ride, I, a Sacaen nomad who was born to fight, to dance and to ride. My indignation didn't last though. His tone was too polite and the situation too desperate.

"Yes. Yes, I can ride very well." This seemed to satisfy him. He turned and told Sain to ride out and retrieve Valiant who had shied away from the fight.

"Sain," He called at the cavalier's retreating back, "After you bring back milady's horse, allow her companion to mount with you. Lady Lyndis will ride with me and we'll seek the protection of the wilds."

"_Oh, Mark!"_ I suddenly remembered that the three of us hadn't been the only one in the fight. I hurriedly looked around for Mark before I saw him standing a ways off. It was a bit too far to tell for certain, but I was pretty sure he was unhurt.

"Milady," I looked back up to where Kent sat mounted on his charger. "would you please come with me. My companion can't seem to control your horse."

I looked over to where Sain was trying rather unsuccessfully to coral Valiant. Valiant didn't know him so every time Sain got close enough to reach her reins, she would turn and trot off somewhere else. They were actually getting farther away as we talked.

"Yes, of course."

I took his proffered hand and took my place on the saddle behind the red knight. With a small nudge, Kent sent his horse cantering towards where Valiant had run off to. As we quickly made our way over to my stray horse, I automatically began to evaluate his. It's just something that Sacaens do. As nomads, we're always traveling the endless plains in solitude, but sometimes our paths cross with other people.

Most of the time, we've never met before and since there are no clear borders, we have to have a way of identifying each other. Because we have so few possessions, the ones we do have are all unique; each one a piece of individual craftsmanship that tells the story of its owner: what tribe and family they are from, where they have been, what their deeds are. For example, the Motah tribe always uses red cloth and angular, black lines in all their designs. The Kutolah tribe breeds unusually fleet and long-limbed horses of dapple gray. Valiant was sired from a stallion acquired by trade from the Kutolah. My own tribe, the Lorca, are renowned for their ancestral swords. This uniqueness makes it easy to learn allegiances.

I couldn't make many guesses about the Caelin Knights though. I didn't know enough about the world outside of Sacae. It was obvious though that their horses were well cared for. Both of the knights' mounts were sleek and well-fed. They were a good deal heavier and more muscular than the horses I was used to, but that wasn't surprising since they had to carry not only the knights and their supplies, but their armor and weapons as well. I could feel its long, heavy tread beneath the thick leather saddle. Yes, they might have been a comparatively clumsy to a nomad's horse, but I liked the chargers just fine.

I stopped paying attention to the horse and began looking at my real interest, the rider's weapons. _"They're well-maintained and tough looking, but there's no artistry,"_ I thought, doing my best to see Kent's sword even though he was blocking my view, _"I bet they could both do with some lighter equipment."_ I looked up as I heard the Valiant's familiar voice.

She was prancing around a few feet away. She didn't want to leave me, but she didn't want to get close to any of the strangers either. Kent gently maneuvered his horse closer to Valiant until I was able to grab her reins. After a little fussing at being so near the stranger and his horse, she obediently trotted along beside us as the three of us headed back to pick up Mark. I gave the tactician a quick once-over as I checked for injuries. There didn't appear to be any and he took to Sain's mount without any obvious difficulty.

Kent turned around as much as he could and spoke to me, " We need to leave here quickly and get to some shelter. Once we're safe we can redistribute your belongings so that you can ride your horse. Milady, you are familiar with these lands. Would you honor us by acting as our guide?"

I agreed. I knew a few places where we could go, but most of them would probably take too long if we had to drag Valiant along by the side.

I reached over Kent's shoulder and pointed over the horizon to the west. "Head that way. Eventually we'll reach a stream that we can follow to fields. It's almost time for the city's farmers to harvest their corn. It's not much, but it will help conceal us."

"That will be excellent milady." He turned to make sure Sain had heard what I had said, then he set off at the fastest possible pace he could make. Despite his outward calm, he seemed to be in a tremendous hurry and I had to tell him to slow down twice so that I didn't lose my grip on Valiant.

It wasn't long before we reached the stream and we soon reached a sea of sweet corn. It was almost sunset and I expected us to bed down somewhere in the safety of the fields. Kent, however, had different plans. He ignored my demands for information as the sky slowly darkened and we pushed deeper into the fields. When total darkness had finally descended and we were still journeying on, I put my foot down.

"Look we have to stop or else the horses could get injured," I said, referring to how easy it was for the horses to twist their legs with the soft, tilled ground and numerous holes.

He started to protest, but then reconsidered after a short pause, "You're right of course. I should know better." Kent redirected his horse to a slight clearing between fields. Sain and Mark soon joined us and we immediately redistributed all of our supplies so that we could ride on each horse. When the last strap had been secured I finally let my curiosity take over.

"Now…" I said with an edge into my voice, "you were going to share a story with me?" I squared myself against both knights with my arms crossed and waited for them to answer me.

**Red Notes**

**1) **I was thinking of Walmart the entire time I was writing up the barn store. I'm not sure how realistic the idea actually is, but it made a lot of sense at the time, especially consider that Sacae is known to be the breadbasket of Elibe and that Bulgar is the _only_ big commercial center in the country.

**2) **Getting Lyn to meet up with those bandits was a convoluted process to say the least. Initially she would just be ambushed in Bulgar while it was dark out and this would somehow allow the knights to get involved. Instead, the chapter slowly (and painfully) grew into its current form. None of the individual scenes were that hard. What's hard is the question of, "Ok, that was good…now what?"

**3) **I'm kinda hesitant that I put Mark's powers on display so openly again. I dislike doing it in general and I especially hate being so obvious about how Mark can strip someone of their will. It's not that I particularly mind the readers know this…it's just, if it keeps happening, you start to wonder why the characters haven't figured out that good old Mark has mind control. That's supposed to be another revelation for another story.


	7. The Heir Apparent

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

The two knights both looked at each other like they were suddenly daunted by the thought. I felt a little something squirm in my gut. Sain just shrugged. The impasse was ended when Kent turned to me and began speaking in a slow voice, carefully choosing each of his words.

"Our names our Sir Kent and Sir Sain. We have ventured from Caelin, in Lycia, in search of someone." There he paused as if considering something.

"_Lycia…that is very far away…why would a pair of knights come so far to find someone in Sacae?" _I wanted him to keep talking so I tried to fill in the blank space. "Lycia…that is the country beyond the mountains in the southwest, isn't it?"

Kent nodded in confirmation. "Correct. We've come here as messengers to the Lady Madelyn, who…eloped with a nomad nineteen years ago." The way they both stared at me was making the something squirm harder.

"Madelyn?" Could he possibly mean…?

Kent gave another small nod before continuing, "Our lord, the marquess of Caelin's only daughter. He was heartbroken that his own daughter would abandon him so. Eventually, the marquess simply declared that he had no daughter." Here Kent paused again to give me an uncomfortable look. Sain, however, took up the narrative for him.

"Lord Hausen is a very…stubborn man," Sain looked almost anxious, as if speaking so honestly about his lord had put himself in danger or possibly give me the wrong idea Thus, he hastily amended, "but he also loved Madelyn dearly. He spent all those years denying it, but just this year, a letter arrived from Madelyn saying that she had had a daughter. The marquess was thrilled and when he learned that they had named her Lyndis, the name of his dead wife, he resolved to reconcile himself with his estranged family."

"Lyndis?" I had finally realized where the conversation was heading, but I was too shocked for the fact to sink in. It was like I was watching a play. It didn't involve me. Impossible.

I forgot that Sain was still talking and stood frozen like a statue, my mind incapable of fully accepting what was happening. I stayed that way until I felt a hard hand give my arm a small shake. I glanced behind me to see Mark. He gestured slightly with his head back towards the knights. Kent no longer appeared uncomfortable as he waited for my attention. Instead, he had become grave and very formal. When Caelin's knight was sure that I was listening fully, he quietly told me that he had recognized me when we had first met in the streets of Bulgar, known it immediately when he had first had a good look at my face.

This did not sit well with me. How could be sure? He must have been mistaken. _I _of all people was no princess. I openly scoffed at the "soft" city dwellers, I hunted wild game, practiced the sword in hopes of killing men, wanted to be respected as an equal among men.

"Why…?" I must have been in a state of denial. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing just how long it took me to get the point.

Thankfully, Kent answered me before I could embarrass myself further. "Your resemblance to your departed mother is remarkable." Surprise on top of surprise. How could he have known my mother when in all my years she had never left my side. "You knew my mother?"

The red-head grimaced like he was looking at something distasteful, but his voice was soft. "I'm sorry to say that I never met her directly, however I've seen her portraits in the castle many times." Kent looked up to me again and he seemed to be see beyond my own face. "The similarity is remarkable," He paused for thought and the harsh countenance softened somewhat, "you truly are your mother's daughter in form…except for your eyes. Your mother wrote your eyes are all your own."

Pity. That's what I saw in his face, strangely mingled with something else I couldn't name. I hated his pity, but he appeared nothing if not truthful. It is said that Sacaens cannot lie and that because we ourselves are true, it is difficult to deceive us. I'm not sure how much stock to put in those tales, but as a hunter and a disciple of the sword, one learns to read the natural signs of the body. When they both met my eyes without flinching, I knew.

"_Father Sky, hasn't enough happened to me this year?"_ I remember thinking. I had finally accepted that, yes, my father was a ruler in a far away country. I was completely overwhelmed. First my parents, then Mark, the fights and then suddenly I'm a princess of a foreign country! One thought did manage to get through the confusion though.

"_I was all alone in the world, and now I have a grandfather. Lyndis... I never thought I would hear that name again…Lyndis…"_

"_Heh heh hehhh... Aren't you the pretty one! Your name is Lyndis, is it not?"_

"_Raw gods…"_

"Wait. That bandit! He called me Lyndis, too!" The connection had come to me out of the blue. In the ensuing chaos of the fight and our get-away, I had completely forgotten the shock of an unknown killer having knowledge my private life. The knights didn't take the news very well.

Kent spoke first, clearly alarmed, "What?! How could he…"

I was surprised when Sain filled in the blank once again. Funny, I hadn't pegged him as much of a thinker early on, for obvious reasons. The dandy, however, had lost all of his previous exuberance and had taken on an expression almost as grim as Kent's.

"He was one of Lord Lundgren's men wasn't he?" Sain gave Kent a long look. He seemed to be waiting for Kent to reply, but Kent was deep in thought. Not wanting to be left in the dark, especially when it came to life and death matters, I resolved to clear up the issue. "Lord Lundgren? Who's that?"

Kent blinked as he came out of wherever his thoughts had taken him. He gave me another one of those grave looks before replying, "He's the marquess' younger brother. With the Lady Madelyn so long estranged from her father, it was assumed that the rule would pass to him. News of Madelyn and her daughter threw the realm into an uproar."

"To be blunt milady, your existence is the only obstacle between Lundgren and the throne. Those men were most likely sent by him to kill you." there was Sain again, coming at the heels of Kent. They seemed to have the ability to finish one another's thoughts. "

"That's…" _"….stupid, idiotic, WHY?!" _"But I have no interest in inheriting any title!"

Sain's grim visage dissolved back into one of his trademark smiles as he flippantly announced, "Well, unfortunately your good, uhmm…" he screwed his face up as if a small fly had suddenly landed on the tip of his nose and he could kill it by concentration alone, "ah, granduncle, is unlikely to believe that."

I raked my fingers through my hair, vaguely wandering how in Elimine's Hell I possibly could have ended up in such an unlikely situation. "What should I do?" I had cursed the sound of my voice then; so small and vulnerable. There were just so many unknowns.

"Why accompany us to Caelin of course," Sain said, his bright smile flashing and eyes rolling as if it was _obviously_ the best choice that I could take. "It's far too dangerous for you to remain here. Please milady come with us and together, we'll journey back to Caelin and oust that imposter! You shall be the standard around which all who are good and just in Caelin shall flock and we shall be your supporters and protectors in everything." It sounded so ridiculous that I almost expected him to be joking, but he wasn't. His voice became more and more animated as he spoke, his eyes once again possessed of that near magnetic shimmer.

"I…" I'm not sure what I felt. It might have simply been the overwhelming events of the day, but I suddenly felt trapped, like the lion before the horseman close the circle or the mouse frozen before the snake. "I feel as if I have little choice…"

**Red Notes**

**1)** This chapter really was a pain to write…I don't know why. I almost wonder if it might have been better to merge it with one of the two surrounding it. As it is, it has _just enough_ unique subject matter to warrant its own chapter. However, I've done some revision, mostly adding more physical description in terms of Lyn's impressions of the knights, and I think that it has helped.

**2)** Despite basically every women in the script refusing him, I feel as though Sain was really a lot more…successful than the game lets on. I imagine him as an extremely handsome and personable man that has been in many relationships (romantic or otherwise) with women, even if few of them were truly deep. I feel as though this chapter, Footsteps of Fate, and the later chapters all help to show just _why_ he's considered attractive.


	8. Implications

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

"I feel as if I have little choice…"

"But my dear, you have always had a choice, especially when it is offered by an imbecile." Mark rarely communicated, but in-spite of his seeming reticence, he never had any trouble commanding attention when he wanted it. My quiet musings and Sain's braggadocio died immediately at the sound of his quiet sneer. Conversation always died when he talked, like the chatter of crickets silenced by the first hint of winters chill breath.

Both knights turned, startled, towards Mark. It might have been funny under less dire circumstances. How do you forget about someone like Mark? "If it is safety that you seek, then you have many options," Mark paused so he could shoot another contemptuous leer towards Sain, "the _last _of which would be to travel into the very heart of your enemy's realm."

Sain was positively livid. "You cur, do you doubt our honor? We would die before allowing our Lady to ­fall into the hands of Lundgren. I would give my last drop of blood before seeing her fall!"

Mark's lips quirked into a slight smile that almost looked like a grimace before he coolly continued his deconstruction of their plan. "Given your actions in the streets of Bulgar, yes, I would question your honor, _sir_." Sarcasm was practically dripping from his tongue as his tone twisted the honorific into an insult. "However, it is not your honor that concerns me. If you were really worried about her safety then you would advise her to simply melt back into the plains and avoid Bulgar or other major gathering places for a few years while this Lundgren tires of searching."

Sain took the suggestion that he would lead me into harm as a slap in the face.

"Perhaps, _sir_, it is time that I teach you some manners!" The green knight looked almost ready to skewer the sickly tactician. Mark's only response was to give another one of those scary smiles, the one that spider would give a fly if it had teeth. My hand had somehow found its way to my sword's grip when Kent's quiet, but stern voice broke through.

"Sain…" he said, his hand taking his companion's sword arm in an easy grip, "enough of this. This is unlike you."

Sain responded in a harsh undertone, "That man," he said, jerking his head in our general direction, "is accusing us of having ill-intent towards the Lady!"

Kent did not reply. Instead, he locked his eyes with Sain's and held them there until he was sure there would not be another outburst. Slowly, he turned back toward us. He took a deep breath through his nose and then spoke to Mark, "What is your name sir?"

Mark's expression lost all of its previous traces of haughtiness and returned to its usual blank slate. "And why would you like to know that?"

Kent's eyes narrowed, but he chose not to see the question as an insult. "Because I do not like talking to someone without knowing their name. It would also be courteous of you to give us your name since we have already given ours."

"Yes, it would." Mark opened his arms and cocked his head downward, appearing almost like a twisted version of the welcoming saints emblazoned in stained glass. "I am called Mark. I am currently serving the Lady Lyndis as a tactician and mentor in repayment for saving my life.

It was my turn to be questioned by Kent next. "This is true?"

"Yes." I did not hesitate and I think that reassured Kent, if only a little.

He nodded with a slight bow in his back and then he proceeded to talk to the both of us, "A debt of honor is something that a knight of Caelin understands. You're right that traveling to Caelin would not be the safest route to take."

Kent made sure that I was looking at him before continuing. "I apologize if you were under a different impression. However, we are…concerned about Lord Hausen and the people of Caelin. Lord Hausen doesn't have very much time left to live and Lundgren is known to be a harsh ruler who thinks only of himself. Furthermore, Lord Lundgren has long plotted behind the scenes to secure power and I am very worried. When word reaches him that his assassins have failed, he may try to remove Hausen from power before anyone can work against him."

Mark once again interjected, neatly summarizing everything in half the breath. "Then you want Lyndis to come with you in order to keep your nation from, as you see it, falling."

Kent's lips thinned, but he nodded and returned to facing me. "I won't lie to you milady. Coming with us could very well be dangerous. I…only ask that you will consider it. This was not intended to be a plea for salvation. Your grandfather wanted to meet the last of his family, that's all. This recent attack, however, has thrown things into a new light."

"Thank you for honesty, I'll…think about it." I finished lamely.

Kent seemed satisfied, though he still looked grim. He turned back towards where his horse was quietly grazing and said, "That's all we can ask. We will go off for a short ways so that you may converse with your…companion…over what you wish to do. But please know this: now that we have found you, our loyalty is forever pledged to you. Even if you decide to stay here in Sacae, at least one of us will accompany you as your guardian and servant, if you will have us."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Having Mark technically in my service was discomfiting enough. Even if I was touched by their apparent devotion (which I couldn't be sure was truthful), the possibility of being responsible of leading more was intimidating even while it was thrilling.

"Ah, one more thing before we go off and hide in the bushes." Sain had donned a very mischievous smirk as he began rummaging through various packs on Kent's warhorse. After a few seconds of digging, he crowed in triumph as he brought out a long object, wrapped in waxed cloth.

With a reverent hand, he undid the wrappings. When he had finished, he kneeled before me to present its contents. For a moment I forgot everything around me as I stared at the most beautiful sword I had ever seen in my life. The sheath looked as if it were made from polished stone. Deep crimson was heavily marbled with the purest jet. The cross-guard and pommel were pure gold, inlaid with rich carvings. The hilt shared the colors of the sheath: black handle crossed over with crimson fabric. For a long while, I simply stared at the weapon, awestruck.

Without thinking, my hand strayed to its length, caressing the enameled surface. It was flawlessly smooth, almost slick. The fabric wrapping the hilt was still soft without a single stray thread. His smirk widening, Sain lifted the weapon up higher, encouraging me to grasp the amazing weapon. I grasped sword by its middle and slowly drew the sword from its protective lair.

The blade inside did justice to its home. Bright steel, polished to a high sheen and utterly faultless reflected the starlight back into my eyes like a mirror. It's surface held no imperfections or markings of any sorts, save a sort of wave pattern that followed the edge up the length of the blade.

I gave the sword a few tentative swings, working it through a basic series of forms. I was almost unsurprised to find it perfectly balanced and with a weight that was hardly greater than the iron sword resting at my hip.

"_One last test,"_ I thought. Holding the blade upright, I barely pressed my thumb against the edge. Blood emerged instantly. I held the blade closer, frowning as I inspected it.

Sain's generous chuckle came to me as he seemingly read my thoughts. "Yes, Lady Lyndis, it is _very _sharp. But when he first asked us to deliver it, my lord assured us that it is quite strong."

"_Deliver the sword…he can't mean…" _The very idea seemed simply too good to be true. But then, the impossible had been happening pretty regularly for that week so what was so unusual about two foreign knights giving me a weapon that seemed as if it had been forged for the gods themselves?

Kent's quiet voice came over me again as he explained the gift, "This is the Mani Katti. It was forged many generations ago for the King of Ostia, who then gave it as a gift to the Sir Hermun, a knight of Ryerde, for saving his life. Sir Hermun was given the land that would become Caelin and the sword has since been passed down by the rulers of Caelin. He commanded that we give it to you."

The decision I had forgotten in the beauty of the Mani Katti returned to my memory. "But I, there's no way I can accept right now!" I said, practically shoving the weapon back into the knight's reluctant hands. "Just let me think over what I'm going to do first."

Sain wouldn't be deterred so easily though, "Milady, your grandfather specifically told us that we were to give it to you. Whether you come or not doesn't matter. He only said that you were to promise to take care of it and let no one else touch it."

Sain quirked his eyebrow and added, "You're a Sacaen right? I would have assumed you would know what to do with a sword. Or perhaps…" he said, putting on air suspicion, "I was mistaken and it was only the men who knew the art of the sword. Shall I explain which way the pointy end goes?"

I should have been angry. My honor as a practitioner of the sword and as a Sacaen had just been insulted. However, his easy smile and friendly manner made it impossible. Try as I might, I couldn't stop myself from chuckling.

His bright smile softened to what could almost have been paternal fondness as he said, "It is a gift Lyndis."

"Yes, a gift which you could have easily deduced that she would greatly desire once she had seen it. If what you said was true, the sword is a powerful symbol: one that caries many implications once accepted." Mark again, his deadpan making it impossible to tell whether he was looking for trouble or simply stating a fact.

Kent tensed slightly, but it was Sain's quiet voice that replied, "Or maybe it is simply a gift from a lonely man who wants nothing more than to be reconciled with his family before he dies."

"…_before he dies." _The force of his statement caused me to wince a hollow formed in the pit of my stomach. I just found out that I still had family left. Was he to be taken from me before I ever truly met him?

Mark did not reply, didn't even change expressions, but that didn't stop me from becoming furious at him. I didn't know whether or not I wanted to go Caelin, but I would not dishonor Sacae or my grandfather by refusing his gift.

Without giving Mark another glance I turned back to Sain and said as formally as I could, "I accept this generous gift, Sir Sain."

Sain once again smiled and gave a small bow with his head. He then made as if to present me with the sword, but then seemed to think better of it.

"Hey, uh Kent, why don't you do this? You know I don't have a head for ceremony."

Kent sighed, but took the sword anyway. Without any further formality, he began speaking in a clear, but quick voice. "Are you Lyndis of Lorca, the daughter of Lord Hauser, son of Sacae, and Lady Madelyn, daughter of Caelyn?"

"I am"

"And will you accept the care of this sword, using it only for honor and justice, drawing it never save in need?"

"I will"

Kent and Sain both knelt and once again presented Mani Katti to me. When I had taken it fastened it firmly to my belt, they returned to their feet.

It was Mark who interrupted the scene again. "As worthy as the gift is, it will not mean anything if we're all dead. We've lingered here far to long. We need to leave immediately and right now, the plains offer the best place to lose our pursuit, provided we get a good enough head start. I suggest that we ride west through the night and continue traveling through tomorrow. Lyndis can make her decision then."

I felt my anger flare up again, but Kent nodded and quickly began to quickly redistribute the supplies. We all fell in step behind him and it wasn't long before we were ready to go. Soon we were on the plains, making the best speed that we could by the starlight, Mark and I on Valiant with Kent and Sain guarding the flanks.

"HEY, KENT!" There was Sain, somewhere off to my left.

Kent's reply came floating over from the right, "WHAT IS IT SAIN?"

"YOU MADE UP THE ENTIRE CEREMONY, DIDN'T YOU?"

I never caught his reply, if there was one. At that moment, the moon shown forth from the clouds like a beacon. With an eager cry, I urged Valiant forward, racing through the sea of grass, making as if to catch the wind itself. Despite the stress of the day, I found myself laughing in sheer delight as Valiant strove to her utmost, humbling Caelin's warhorses. _"It's been far too long since I've had the gale in my ears," _I thought.

**Red Notes:**

**1**) I thought it might be interesting to add these little editorials when I first put out a chapter or heavily modify it. We'll see how it goes, eh? BTW, one more chapter and this fiction will be basically finished as far as new content goes. After that, it's time for revision and then the next "Big Thing"(TM).

**2) **I'm pretty pleased with _Implications_, or at least I'm pleased how the rough draft turned out. _The Heir Apparent _is still bugging me, but I got tired of thinking of ways I could improve it so I just started throwing this together. Originally I wasn't sure how it would end up...the whole stop in the corn field was originally supposed to be about two paragraphs where Lyn would be presented with her choice, but instead it mushroomed into the chapter that you just read. I think I just liked idea of finally having some new characters to bounce Mark off of. Besides, the whole bit about the sword was fun to make up.

**3)** Yes, I am perfectly aware of how the Mani Katti is presented in game and you know what? I think it's stupid. If my endless use of direct quotations hasn't given it away already, I am never shy about making use of official cannon. That said, I 'm also not shy about ripping it to shreds if I think it will make the story better, though, to be honest, I generally prefer staying within cannon.

**4)** As mentioned in an earlier, now deleted comment, I've enjoyed watching as the personas of Kent and Sain slowly form. As with Mark and Lyndis, their personalities are the real motivation behind this story. I haven't always been able to decide what I want from them and it sometimes shows, but overall, I'm pleased, especially with Sain. Kent has long been one my favorite characters in FE and I have a pretty clear picture of what I want from him. Sain, however, was a wild-card coming into this. In the end, I think I've interjected a little more quiet competence and steel into the Dandy Among Knights. Look to see this duo play at least minor role in all of my in-game fic's set in this continuity.


	9. Someone New

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

We rode hard throughout the night, following the ridges of the rolling hills by the steady light of the moon. Valiant rejoiced in the lightened load and her long strides worked tirelessly as we raced to put additional leagues between us and Bulgar. I loved the ride too and for a little while I forgot my troubles in the blessedly cool air and the rhythmic rocking of the saddle. 

That couldn't last forever though. In time strain of the previous days became impossible to ignore. As night wore into dawn and bled into noon, Valiant's tread became heavier and heavier and I could tell that we were slowly loosing our speed. I wasn't much better. My thoughts floated around aimlessly despite my attempts to focus. I was becoming drowsier by the minute and my neck hurt from when I would doze off for a second then jerk awake. By late noon, I was a complete mess. The heat, the sleep deprivation and the nerve shredding events all seemed to hit me at once.

"_By all the dragons ever spawned, when…"_ I had been having a lot trouble completing my thoughts, _"…when are we going to stop and rest? There's no way those guys could still be tracking us...shavit."_

I had dozed off and it was beginning to happen regularly. For most of the ride, I was able to stay alert so long as I purposefully kept my mind occupied. I had stayed up for long hours before while hunting and I had developed many different tricks. I would force myself to think through some story or event in precise order, going through the details as best as I could. When that failed, I tried going through sword positions and imaginary duels or concentrating on something in the scenery for a few seconds before going to something else. It's too bad thirty-six hours without sleep is still thirty-six hours.

"_Damn it all, it's soooo annoying…did I pack the compass in the back-left pocket or the…first position, wrist down, hilt up…step ..down…turnaroundand…swing…no…step..and…"_

And the next thing I knew, I had just bolted upright from where I had been laying on the ground. My heart was racing as my addled brain tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"Wha…"

"Ah, wondrous Beauty, she awakes!" Still confused, I tried to turn and face the source of the noise. I stopped as I noticed that I had somehow become entangled in the blankets that had mysteriously appeared on top of me.

"_How did end up in these?"_

Sain was a little curious too. "Nightmare?"

I shook my head and carelessly ran a hand through my emerald locks. I remembered riding Valiant. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground. I repeated the motion with my hand, maybe hoping that I could rake out some of the cobwebs that must have built up in my head. It may have taken a while, but eventually enough of the fog in my brain had lifted to where I could think clearly. I had a bad ache in my head from the ground and my arm was numb from where I had been laying on it. As I experimentally rotated the sleeping limb, I glumly observed that it was nearly evening.

"Did I fall asleep riding?" _"I hope not. That would be shameful."_

"Yes." I hated it sometimes: the weakness of my humanity. I wanted to be able to go days, months, years without sleeping, run without stopping, obtain perfection in the sword. I had just fallen asleep riding, a dangerous blunder, in front of not only two strange knights, but Mark. The knights and their blasted chivalry were bad enough. The thought of letting my guard down in front of Mark was even worse.

"Damn." I tend to let my language slip when I'm tired. _"Don't curse,"_ I mentally upbraided myself, _"it's not fitting and my parents wouldn't have liked it."_ Curious about what Sain thought of his princess cursing, I snuck a peek up at him.

One of Sain's eyebrows had conspicuously disappeared into the brown mess of his hair. He looked like he couldn't decide whether to be shocked or amused to hear such a word from "milady". I was rather pleased, even if I was annoyed at myself. I wasn't some helpless flower from Caelin.

Sain's bemusement didn't last very long though, smile dying as he looked at something behind me and did his best to turn his face into a blank slate. I twisted back around to see Mark silently looming over me. I felt the corner of my right eye tighten slightly in irritation. I didn't like that he'd been able to walk right up to me without even being noticed. It was offensive somehow.

Mark craned his neck over, his long hands hanging relaxed by at his sides. The usual unreadable monotone was absent and in its place was an unexpected gravity. _"Looks like the Doll has become the Lord and General." _At some point, Mark's personality shifts had exasperated me enough that I had begun to categorize his more noticeable moods by name.

"You are awake." He meant it as a statement. It was obvious that he expected no response so I didn't bother giving him one. Mark turned his attention towards Sain, all hints of his previous disdain erased. _"Raw gods, why can't he just pick one mood and stick with it?" _ I mused.

It _would_ have made things much less complicated, but then the idea was necessarily a good one. _"What if he gets stuck how he was when he first woke up?"_ The thought made me nervous.

"_He's like a women permanently stuck in her monthly…all those mood swings." _I had to fight to keep that strange bit of random speculation from making me laugh as Mark elaborated on his plan for the morning. I didn't think Mark would be very amused with the idea of him being a hormonal house wife. I resolved to tell Sain later. He'd appreciate the thought.

"Kent's watch will be over soon. Help me prepare a meal so that he can have something hot. He will need it, as will Lyndis." Sain nodded at this and pushed himself off the ground, still listening to Mark's instructions. Apparently it had been decided earlier that there would be quick group meeting once I woke up. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I was still too groggy from waking up to be concerned.

Sain and Mark soon had a tiny fire going near the horses so that their bulk could shield the guttering flames from the wind. Sain held a tiny iron pot over the flames as Mark nimbly began to prepare a sparse stew from the fresh vegetables we had picked up in Bulgar. Regardless of what I chose, we would likely be living off hardtack for a while and it was best to enjoy what fresh food we could while it lasted.

Seeing that they were already well on their way towards preparing the small meal, I got up and headed over to the horses with intent of organizing our supplies and prepping the horses for riding. I didn't like the idea of being waited on, even if seemed to be a mere practicality.

Eventually Kent returned, riding on his horse from where he had been circling our campsite. I looked up and greeted the crimson knight, who stiffly returned my greetings. He rode his charger over towards where Valiant and Sain's horse were tiredly kneeling. Hoping to help him, I tried to grab the reins of the stallion, but the horse reacted violently as soon as he saw my hand near his face. A quick jerk was the only thing that saved my fingers from becoming impromptu carrots.

Snorting like a wild boar, the knight's horse began flailing with his front hooves. An iron shoe missed my the top of my head by a very short margin as I jumped back half a step, surprised by the violent reaction. The seemingly enraged horse was getting ready to come after me again when Kent jumped off the saddle corralled him with a severe jerk to his reins.

"Heil, enuviel!" Another hard jerk, his eyes blazing coals as they met those of his stallion's. " Eean. Het. Nu." After a brief struggle, the horse reluctantly stood stock straight, as if for an inspection, and allowed himself to be lead over to the other horses to be posted. The scowling knight muttered a few more words to his horse in a low voice before finishing the knot that would tie him to the stake we had driven into the ground for just that purpose. When the knot proved up to his standards, Kent turned back to face me again, his mouth set in a thin line. Swiftly crossing the distance, he asked in a worried voice, "Are you alright? Were you bitten?"

"I'm fine. He didn't get me, really." Kent's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he seemed to pause, as if he were the one who had been caught on the head. Kent's eyebrows scrunched up as tried to bring up the thing he was trying to recall. Whatever thought he had been trying to bring up seemed to slip through his fingers, so to speak. His speech came haltingly as he did his best to stammer out an apology.

"Milady, I must beg your forgiveness for the behavior of my horse. He is extremely temperamental and I fai.." I kind of enjoyed his stiff formality, even if I usually found such ceremony pointless. I chuckled and flashed a toothy smile at him, hoping it would be enough to put my worrying "protector" at ease.

"It's alright Kent. He didn't even scratch me, though I bet he wishes he could have done a lot more than leave a few tooth marks!" That didn't seem to help very much so I tried a different tact. "So, why are you riding such a foul tempered beast?"

His face sagged and he seemed to be hesitating. "He was the only horse that I was able to get when it was time to train with one." This was a pretty sparse answer and I was determined to drag more out of the reticent knight. I wanted to know these men who had been thrust into my lives. He also provided a convenient way to procrastinate making my choice as to which way I would go. Mark never forgot anything and I was someone would be bringing it up soon.

"So why did you bother to keep him?" Why indeed? The animal that seemed possessed, with heavy breath, massive muscles twitching, and bloodshot eyes.

"I..grew..fond..." Kent seemed to stumble over the words. Was he embarrassed? It wasn't impossible considering what he was fond of. "perhaps, I...perhaps, 'attached' is better." Yes, "attached" would be better. It was then that I noticed just pale he was. Black pouches were easily visible under blood-shot eyes that wandered aimlessly far too much to be normal. He looked like Hell.

"Kent, what have you been doing? You look dead on your feet." I asked, concerned that the knight would collapse into unconsciousness even while he stood there. _"You idiot, what do you think everyone else has been doing while you've been asleep? He's just tired."_

I had mistaken his inability to answer with stumbling over his words as embarrassment or shyness when he simply fatigued. That would not do. My trio of guardians may have given oaths to look after me, but I hated the idea of being sheltered from the journey at their own expense. Once I was sure he had secured his temperamental mount well enough that I wasn't risking any limbs, I gently guided the muddled Kent over to where Sain and Mark were finishing up the last of the hasty meal they had prepared.

As we made our way over, Sain's cheery-once-more voice came over to us, "Hey there brother, food's on! Did you finally get a concussion riding that demon you insist on calling a horse? Dang man, You like shit."

Kent took no offense. "It's been a long day Sain," he said tonelessly. Kent sat down cross-legged by the fire before taking a good, long look at Sain. "You don't look so good yourself," he said concernedly, "how are you feeling?" This was classic Kent, always putting the welfare of others before his own, no matter the price.

Sain's playful grin slipped a bit as he responded in a quietly, "I'm doing fine mom," the grin regained a little of its old height, but still fell short of a real one, "the worst of a fever broke fourteen hours ago."

"_A fever?"_ That was a disturbing thought since we were officially on the run. If Sain were incapacitated, life would become doubly hard.I looked closer at the cavalier and this time I noticed his skin had an unhealthy sheen to it: before I had blamed it on the heat.

"Besides," Sain continued, now reduced to a sad smirk, "you and Mark have taken most of the watches and I certainly haven't missed any meals….Kent…"

"Yes?" Tired eyes met tired eyes. Neither wanted to back down from the challenge, whatever the challenge was. It was Sain though, that first broke off. He sighed before continuing, "Kent, you really need to get some rest. How times did Wallace drill it into our heads that rest was a better weapon than any spear? How many times did _you?_" Kent favored his friend with a smile, small, but genuine. "More times than I can count," he admitted.

I lightly clenched my jaw in frustration. I hated having others support me. It was a blow to my ego and I hated that. Even worse, others were suffering for me, suffering only because of some stupid title, which I hadn't even earned and I absolutely _despised_ that.

Kent got up again and walked himself over to where the food lay steaming in its iron bath. "If it were only myself that I was concerned about," he said, grabbing the small ladle in the pot before taking a serving bowl, "then I would already be asleep. However, as it is, it's better if I wait."

"Have you eaten yet Lady Lyndis?" He asked as he turned to face me. _"Great,"_ I thought, _"they risk their lives against bandits, then Sain gets sick, Kent gets worn out, and now he's offering me food first. There must be a conspiracy to make me feel worthless."_

My stomach certainly was empty, but I was hardly famished. "No, but you go ahead." I really didn't want to accept anymore of their help. Kent, being the obstinate ass that he is, chose to ignore this command by his liege. Once he had filled the bowl in his hand to the brim with the hot stew, he handed it to me and turned back and grabbed another bowl. I angrily prepared to protest, prepared to invoke the hated title of "Lady" if it would get the idiots sit down, shut-up, eat, and get some rest, but Kent was talking again before I could get started.

"Sir Mark, I know that you have not eaten either." He handed Mark another bowl filled to the brim. The pale eyed tactician took the bowl without argument. I noticed that the pot was already getting low. I got ready once again to tell Kent off for that stupid chivalry of his, but Mark took care of it for me as he slowly stirred the contents of his meal; stupid men, always interrupting me.

"It is right and proper that a commander should serve his liege and those under him before himself. However, after Lyndis has had whatever second servings she desires, you will take both a first and second helping for yourself."

Kent looked ready to protest again, but, tired as he was, Mark easily headed him off. "You three are the only fighters we have in this rabble and therefore the ones who will most need sustenance. If I am need of food, rest assured, I will take it. Now, eat."

Kent complied without further argument, sitting down wordlessly next Sain who was busily scraping the hardened remains of the meal out of the pot.

Although he gave his brother-in-arms a worried look, Sain's attention span was bored of worrying about Kent. So it turned back to me. "Do not worry about your Sain milady!" The cavalier proclaimed, eyes sparkling, "I both rested and fed several hours ago."

I was surprised by how naturally my retort came, "Who say's I was even thinking about you?" It was instinctual: a quick jab.

The green knight's counter was clasping a hand over his over his heart, an expression of agony on his face. "Fair damsel, you wound me! Ah, woe as me, scorned and yet still compelled by love."

I couldn't help, but chuckle. It was hard to believe in his agonizing pain when his eyes shown with silent laughter. I liked Sain best when I knew he was only jokingly flirted with me. To this day we can go back and forth for hours, picking up and dropping our arguments at the drop of a hat.

"Compelled by love, eh?" I asked, allowing a hint of slyness in my voice, "Tell me Sir Sain, who is your true love? You're a young, dashing knight and eligible for marriage. Surely there is some courtly young girl back in Caelin who is waiting for you." I was genuinely curious to see if he was simply a jester at heart who had some true love waiting back for him in Caelin.

"My liege, there is not a women I have met that I have not loved. Sadly, none of them have yet returned my affections fully." I didn't know then, but Sain didn't lie when he said this. Old and young, fair and ugly, Sain seemed to know the opposite sex better than they did themselves and he loved them both in spite of and because of it.

"Well, my dear knight, as difficult as I find it to believe that any women could refuse one so handsome as yourself, the problem _might_ be that you can't seem to love only one them." He knew this, of course. Sain acted the fool (gods, I've turned into Mark), but I knew from the beginning that he was more than that.

Which is not to say that he always (or even usually) showed this. Smile never faltering, Sain responded in truest of form, "By the chastity belt of Elimine, you're _right_," he stood up and began to pace, verbalizing his mock debate with himself, "how can I expect any women to share her lover's love with another lover of her love?! It Just Isn't Done! Well, unless you live in Kafti…but that's not important. I must therefore choose for myself one young damsel who I could imagine spending the rest of my life with and devote my energies to pursuing her." Sain put a bladed over his eyebrows and acted as if he were searching intently in all directions for that one special women.

First he stopped at Mark, bending forward as if he were straining to make out his form in the distance, "Perhaps…but no, I may dabble in the risqué, but even _I _can't work with pure Evil." I grinned in spite of myself. He next turned towards Kent who was busy examining updated maps that he had apparently acquired in Bulgar.

Sain opened his mouth and left it hanging, "Hm yea, no…too _serious, _too _borrrring_." I couldn't help it: I chuckled. I automatically risked a glance at both Mark and Kent, sure that one of the two would be disapproving of the both of his, but they were both too engrossed in their endeavors to notice: probably a good thing in retrospect. Kent was too tired to care and he had also known San for years. Mark though…

Sain was despairing of his ever finding his lady love when he finally got to me. With a great flourish he threw both his arms in the air and gave a shout of joy, "YES, I have found her!" He wasted very little time kneeling in front of me so that he could ask my hand in marriage with promises of life-long fidelity and eternal love.

I couldn't help it. I was laughing so loud the entire camp could hear me and there wasn't anyway I could stop it. Mark was giving me his usual blank stare and I'm sure Kent was doing something similar, but I couldn't see him. With great drama, I placed the back of my hand on my forehead and affected the pose of the fainting maiden.

"Oh, _Sain_ I can't believe you really love me!" _"Let them watch,"_ I thought with defiant pleasure, _"I haven't really laughed since…"_ It was best not to think.

We carried on like this for I don't know how long, getting more and more boisterous. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end as Mark came over and herded our little flock into a rough circle by the ashen corpse of the cooking fire.

"What is your decision?" Some might accuse Mark of lecturing, but no one ever accused him of pointless talk. Normally I appreciated that singular trait, but at that moment, I really wish he could've been given to some good, long rambling. I had spent every waking minute since the cornfield trying to decide which path I should take, but I was no closer to finding an answer then when the choice was first presented.

"I…I have come to my decision," Mark's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at that. _"Liar,"_ they seemed to say. "but first I'd like to hear what each of you has to say."

So I waited. Both of the knights stood fast, probably wishing to saying something, but fearful of guilting me down a path that they knew would be dangerous and perhaps futile as well. Mark was silent as well, opting for his way of observing before action.

The stalemate had become unbearable when Mark finally got tired of beating around the bush, "I advise you to you go west and claim the throne of Caelin."

I was shocked speechless and the cavaliers looked outright suspicious. Why wouldn't we be? Who had exposed every weakness in the proposition for going to Caelin? Who had insinuated that Mani Katti was nothing more than a piece of shiny bait with a sharp hook attached? Who had almost come to blows with Sain? Mark had.

"Thus far, the primary drive in your life has been vengeance. You wanted more power so you could slay those who had taken your old life from you. I advised you to become a mercenary because it was the most efficient path to attaining your goal of strength. Now, you have a better path."

"I'm not sure, I…" I let the thought trail off into the air. I didn't know what I wanted. I had never really wanted the life of a mercenary, even if some aspects of it were attractive. It had seemed too callus, too pointlessly cruel an occupation. That was before my parents were murdered and the Lorca scattered to the winds.

"What do you mean you're unsure? What is this so confusing?" There wasn't much I could answer with and the little I had, I didn't feel comfortable sharing. We were soon in another staring match, but this time, it was Mark who gave in first. I watched disbelievingly as his features took on a near softness.

"When I told you to become a mercenary, it was the best option you had. The _only_ option you truly had if you expected to obtain any measure of vengeance and still hoped to live. Things have changed now." His voice had become richer, warmer, if that seemed possible. I probably shouldn't have been so flabbergasted. I had known Mark hardly a week and, like I just said, his very personality seemed to shift at random. Was it so hard to believe that he might display more depths of humanity just as he displayed his apparent inhumanity? This was so unexpected though. There seemed someone new in the possession of Mark, someone who reminded me of adoptive grandfather within the Lorca. White haired Alrich, slain in the same raid as my family.

"You have been an opportunity that many could never expect in a hundred lifetimes. It will be harder to carry out your vengeance with your duties as a ruler, however, you will have far greater resources with which you can find and punish them. If it is truly strength you want, then you will find no better way." Mark stopped and waited for my response. Still, I hesitated, unsure of what to do.

"So, you wish only for strength without regards of Power." I almost missed what he'd said, it had been so quiet. Mark seemed to notice my regard and decided to continue, "You wanted to become strong: you will have access to the might armies and the best instructors of the land. You crave vengeance: you're given the means to complete it within years instead of decade. You feel your honor was stripped from you: what higher can be given, but that of ruler? You lost your home: you're offered a new one..." Mark paused and, had I not seen his lips moving, I would have missed his final sentence, "You thought your family was lost: now one has been found. Will you lose him as well?"

All my previous confusion was swept away. What did anything matter anymore? I may not have been alone with Mark and the knights, but they weren't family. There absence had been like a sore festering in my chest. How could I pass up the opportunity to save my own _Grandfather_, the last of family? I couldn't.

I looked up and surveyed those who would bring me to my new home. Mark stood there still, his expression a strange contradiction of chill and warmth, empathy and harsh reality. Kent was doing his best to maintain the blank slate of the loyal knight, but his anticipation betrayed him in the tenseness of his muscles and the grip on his sword. And Sain…Sain already knew; his face plastered with that crazy grin of his.

**Red Notes**

**1)** The language Kent speaks is actually a butchered form of Dutch. I had wanted an altered form of Russian, but I didn't want to spend the time converting the Russian spellings to their English counter-parts. It turned out alright in the end, since Dutch is "harsher" in sound and therefore better suited to giving commands to an unruly horse. It also avoids sounding anything remotely close to Quenya or Sindarin (Tolkien's Elvin languages), something I often see in fantasy.

**2)** I thought it would be an interesting dichotomy if Kent was given the temperamental stallion instead of Sain. Originally, Sain would get a gentle mare to contrast with Kent, but I disliked the image of Sain being paired with a female horse since he's always hitting on the women. As it is, they're both stallions; it's just Kent happens to have the homicidal one.

**3)** I apologize if some horse facts were messed up. The few I've used are largely the results of my own memory and some quick Google searches. If you know more about horses and have a correction to make or a suggestion about how to use them in one of my stories, feel free to shoot me an email or a message.

**4) **Freakin' A…It was 2AM and I had just finished this entire chapter, complete w/multiple proof-reads. I was happy…surprisingly happy. The chapter had turned out very well…and then I saved the epilogue over this chapter and lost half of my work…and now I hate the rewrite…_sighs_


	10. Epilogue: A Love of Marionettes

Fire Emblem is the property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo. I merely borrow what others have labored to create.

Please, for the love of all that is good in fanfiction, WRITE A REVIEW!! Even better, make it thoughtful and specific as to **_why_ **you think as you do. I solemnly swear by Athos' beard that I will reply to any signed reviews given. _Claus: I reserve the right to base the thoughtfulness of my response on that of the review_.

* * *

"_And that was it…"_ I think, reflecting on the real beginning of my new life. The moonlight waxed and waned with the passing of the clouds and I notice once again just how late it is.. _"Such small decisions, to save him, to go back for some water skins…and they changed my whole life." _I smile slightly to myself, _"Kind of anti-climatic: we just got on the horses without another word and we were off. Ah, but it's always the little moments…" _

I shiver suddenly. It may not be cold out, but I am wearing little and the breeze had slowly sapped the warmth from me as the hours passed by. I sigh, finally feeling the fingers of fatigue clutching at my consciousness. Slowly, I made my way back towards my bed where my husband yet slept. Tired, yet content, I draw the blankets back and slip in.

"_He was right…he was always right. I couldn't have lived as a mercenary, fueled only by the fires of rage… Raymond wasn't able to either."_

Quickly, like water running through my fingers, my consciousness dims as I finally embrace sleep. Still my mind churns, grinding away like rusty cogs against old memories and contentions. All that reminiscing had caused me to begin thinking about our tactician from the war against Nergal. Even after all the years since we had last parted ways, I never came any closer to figuring.

"_Did he ever truly act from his heart…when…when he showed care, showed his (Was it his? Was it another's?) concern? Or was he only manipulating us all, like so many marionettes dancing on strings?"_

"…"

"_No, I don't believe that…for me, at least, he…"_

The water was almost through, my fingers incapable of holding anymore, not wanting to hold anymore.

"…_some sort of love."_

A chill stole through me as I snuggled up as best I could against my husband's warmth. And as the last of the water runs through my hands, I begin to think I can see two ghostly blue points, glowing with dead light in the distance.

**Red Notes**

**1)** Finally finished…it's been a convoluted process and I still have much revising to do, but hey…it's done. My thanks to those of you who have followed this through the beginning. As usual, any critique given is most welcome.

**2)** I kinda wonder if the change in tone and style are too different from the rest of the story, but I think they serve my purposes well.

**Updated to get rid of Acknowledgements section and lower the rating...but mostly because I'm shamelessly trying to whore this thing out. **


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